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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276730">Kaleidoscopic Disintegration</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcoholicberry/pseuds/alcoholicberry'>alcoholicberry</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Sentinels &amp; Guides, Established Secret Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Guide John, John's in hiding, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Relationships are hard work, Sentinel Sherlock Holmes, Sentinel/Guide Bonding, kinda developing relationship, past John Watson/Sebastian Moran, trying this prompt thing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:07:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>29,664</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29276730</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/alcoholicberry/pseuds/alcoholicberry</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson and Sherlock Holmes are two sides of a coin in a war that's been going on longer then either of them can remember. Caught between two worlds, in the middle of a fight that neither can get out of. Will their love survive or will it seal their end? </p><p>For Johnlock February. Never done anything like this before and I've started late because I've only just seen it and thought I'd give it a shot.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sherlock Holmes/John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>February 2021 Johnlock prompt challenge from ohlooktheresabee</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Secret</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Summary is based off where the first word took me. So it may evolve from there but I'm going to attempt a continuous story in this AU. If any of the chapters decide to be one shots, it will be noted at the top. As it's the seventh and I'm starting super late on this, I might go over the final date just to finish or I might make it to more then one post a day. Fingers crossed the ideas flow so I complete it all in Feb. </p><p>None of this is going to be proofread so if something is super obvious, drop me a comment and I'll fix it. Thanks everyone.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Secret</p>
<p> </p>
<p>John Watson had a secret. He wasn’t the only one who kept this secret but he was at the heart of it because he was the one who created the need for such a secret. </p>
<p>Every other night around nine p.m he would find the one entrance of the compound that was being guarded by Murray and slipping the man a portion of his rations for the day, would slip through the fence into one of the large tunnels. It was dangerous to go out after the curfew but John was such a high rank that those who helped him keep his secret, never questioned his ability to protect himself. </p>
<p>He trudged through the mud and gravel of the tunnel, following it through the system he had memorized, even in the dark. His eyes eventually adjust to the lack of light and he’s able to take each of the turns necessary to bring him above ground. The sun is setting earlier and earlier with the cold coming in and once he’s up, he easily blends in with the shadows of his surrounding area. </p>
<p>Pulling his coat tighter around himself, he hunches and buries his hands in his pockets to keep the chill away. The whole of the journey should take less than an hour but he makes sure to weave a longer trail to nowhere in particular, just in case he’s got a tail. In the end the trip takes little over two hours and when he finds himself in front of the door, his face feels frozen from the wind. </p>
<p>He knocks, rocking on his heels as his head swivels to see if there’s anyone else on the street but it’s abandoned thankfully. </p>
<p>The door opens a moment later and a tall man with dark curls and a dressing robe stands before the threshold expectantly. His piercing eyes give John a once over before he steps back to allow him entry to the building. There’s no words exchanged as John makes his way into the small hallway. He’s been here so many times before that he doesn’t need to be directed to the small flat up the stairs. He can’t recall if he’s ever seen any of the other inhabitants of the building. He knows almost all the rooms are occupied and that it’s likely the time of night when he comes that allows for him to enter without notice. Just like the man who is following him now, the other occupants are here to get away. It was a safe haven for those who needed a place to be themselves. </p>
<p>They make their way up the stairs and in through the second door to the small flat beyond.</p>
<p>The door closed behind them and a lock turned, John found himself near the windows, pulling the heavy blinds closed. It’s the same routine every time they meet. No words exchanged till the tiny apartment has been secured. Satisfied that no one is beyond the blinds, John moves to the center of the room where he’s met halfway by the man who opened the door for him only minutes ago. They look at one another, gaze intense as if trying to memorize each other's face in case this is the last time they meet. </p>
<p>Then their mouths are crashing together in a frenzy of passion and John’s arms are wrapping around shoulders to pull the body even closer to his own. This closeness is what they both need, what they both crave. They will come together like two waves crashing and when the fury is all spent, then they will talk. But until then, any sound made is quickly swallowed up by mouths eager to taste. </p>
<p>They make it to the small bedroom just off the kitchen where a single bed rests. It’s become their safe haven, their real home, the place where they both feel at peace and the rest of the world's problems can’t find them. John wishes he could have this place always but he knows it would be impossible. It’s only behind these doors that either of them gets to strip away their real identities and just exist as themselves, no strings attached. </p>
<p>His hands find purchase on the robe the other man is wearing and he’s pushing it back over his shoulders, quickly dispensing with the rest of his clothing in near desperation. Both seem to understand that the less time spent stripping, the more time spent wrapped around each other. When both are finally nude, they tumble to the bed, hands touching and groping the familiar planes of each other’s bodies. It’s quick and urgent and overwhelming and afterwards, John wraps his arms around the taller man, holding him close to his side as he presses a kiss to his forehead. </p>
<p>“I should see to the fire.” his companion says softly after they’ve been lying together awhile. He moves to sit up and John finds his hand reaching out to take the other mans and bring it to his lips. He’s always surprised by the softness of the digits against his lips. He’s so used to the rough callouses that come with dangerous work. </p>
<p>“I can keep you warm.” he muses, pressing another kiss to the knuckles. </p>
<p>The other man laughs, something deep and genuine that comes from his core and brings a smile to his face. “I’m sure you could but it’s rather cold out and we’ll be praying for the warmth of a good fire before we leave.” </p>
<p>“Already talking about leaving.” John falls back on the bed and looks up at the deteriorating ceiling above. “I wish we could just stay here, suspended in this moment forever.” </p>
<p>“I imagine it would get rather boring,” the deep voice of his companion comes from across the room where the fireplace that joins both the bedroom and sitting area is located. </p>
<p>John turns onto his stomach and props his head up with a pillow, eyes watching the other man as he gets to work building the fire back up that heats the entirety of the flat. It’s primitive but it’s one of the ways they’ve found to keep a low profile and avoid any sort of paper trail. </p>
<p>Once the flames are back to full strength, his partner crosses back to the bed and pulling back the covers, slides back under. His body is cold from the time spent outside the blankets and John is quick to pull him back against himself, using his own to warm him up. This time things are much slower, each treasuring the other as they gradually come to a peak, fire burning brightly in the background illuminating the scene. </p>
<p>Wrapped around one another, breath ghosting against sweat slick skin, John finds himself wondering what it would be like if their circumstances were different. If they could be together, in the open without fearing for the safety of one another. </p>
<p>Yes, John Watson has a secret and that secret’s name is Sherlock Holmes. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Allergies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sherlock's POV</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again not edited. Fancy that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sherlock removed his glasses and rubbed at his tired eyes, he had been scouring data for hours now, trying to come up with a reason the tests kept failing. He’d changed the formula countless times but the closer he felt he was getting to his goal, the more dangerous the side effects seemed. His superior intellect seemed to be falling short when it came to the development of the drug and not being able to solve this problem was frustrating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course he couldn’t talk to anyone about it since his laboratory work was technically illegal. The only person who knew anything about it was Mycroft and his brother had actually threatened him several times with a raid if he didn’t shut it down. He’d promised to do just that but instead moved the equipment to an abandoned basement of a subpar building development. It was cold and drafty and the walls were unfinished, leaving the whole space to appear a rather wide hole in the ground but it had electricity, ventilation and best of all, was in a place his brother would never look. It had been nearly a year now, spent in this brick-like prison, working whenever he could manage to get away undetected. Since then, he’d brought in a few other chemists, Bill Wiggins the most notable amongst the lot was exceptionally bright but his talent had needed a bit of guidance at the beginning. Now he was the go to man when Sherlock needed something, whether it be the retrieval of data, chemical formulas or test subject. He’d even gone so far as to set up a cot in the back area and suggest shifts to stand guard over the experiment. Sherlock’s homeless network had been more than happy to look after things whenever he was called away, especially when it was cold out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cuppa?” Anna asked from the far corner where a small refrigeration unit sat with a cheap kettle above it. She was holding two mugs of steaming tea, one extended in Sherlock’s direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was one of his more reliable homeless, always ready to take on a task if it meant a warm place to stay. More often than not, Sherlock would seek her out specifically to look after things. He knew she was capable of holding her own and that she would destroy any of the work if it was deemed the only necessary course of action. Even better, she believed in the work they were doing and could be relied upon to know a few people who were willing to be tested on as long as their identities were kept secret. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking the offered mug, Sherlock swung his chair around and faced his two companions. He hadn’t been getting much sleep lately and staring at a screen for six hours had caused a headache. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything else?” he finally asked after taking a sip of the hot liquid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wiggins was standing in front of the beakers, frowning down at their newest failed test. “Nah. Just the allergies.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not allergies.” Sherlock corrected him for the hundredth time that day, “Allergy like symptoms.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wiggins held up his hands in defense, “Right. I’m just repeatin’ what they be saying. Subjects three through nine say they had allergic” he quickly corrected himself, “--allergy-like side effects.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken them months to get as far as testing and now it looked like their most promising lead was a dud. Not only were the subjects getting sick after taking the drug, they hadn’t noted a change at all in their day to day life. It was infuriating.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No one noticed anything?” he asked over the mug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both Anna and Wiggins gave a shake of their heads, cementing the failure to Sherlock. He sighed, getting to his feet finally. He was feeling stiff from sitting in one place for so long and when he looked at his watch, he realized it was nearly ten. He would have to leave right away if he planned on meeting John in time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right. Look through the previous attempts and see if there’s anything else we can isolate. Batches six and eleven seemed promising. See if there’s a way we might be able to combine them to make it work.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wiggins nodded, moving across the room to take up the chair that Sherlock had recently vacated. He said nothing else as he took up the post and got to work scouring the files for connections. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Handing his mug back to Anna, Sherlock snatched his coat from the small hook which was wedged in the wall. It wasn’t a real hook, more of a brick that had been placed wrong and worked well for a place to hang things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be back tomorrow if I can manage to shake Mycroft. He’s been hounding me for leads and I’ve put him off for far too long.” He said, wrapping the dark blue scarf around his neck. Just before he reached the door, Anna stepped up beside him and handed him a large bag. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re meeting him aren’t you.” she said in a hushed tone. “You only bring these on the days you meet him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock took the offered bag, sparing the contents a quick glance. Bottles of vitamins and other medicines were tucked inside. “Thank you.” he said before pulling the door open and stepping out into the cold night air. The vitamins had been his excuse to meet with John nearly five months ago but now he found himself looking forward to their rendezvous for an entirely different reason. He would never admit it out loud because it was terribly cliche but Sherlock Holmes had gone and fallen in love.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Arriving at the dismal flat, Sherlock set to work building a fire to warm the place up. Removing his jacket once it was built up enough to illuminate the small two room flat. Hiding the purchase of the place had been more work and if Mycroft knew about it, he never let on. This tiny sitting room with a small kitchen tucked in the corner, led through to an even smaller bedroom with a water closet. There was a bed shoved up against the opposite wall of the fireplace, the only other furniture being a thin wardrobe in the corner that held extra blankets and his favorite blue robe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d found it difficult to bring items to the flat. Having them here would make it feel more like a home and he would find it difficult to leave when their evening together was over. But he’d be damned if he didn’t allow himself a few creature comforts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the blue silk robe that he sought out now, slipping it on once he’d changed into something a bit more comfortable (and easily removable). Tidying his other clothes away, he let himself finally relax, sitting in front of the fire near the windows so he could keep a lookout for John. He was always the first to arrive whenever they met, not yet willing to give John a key to their little love nest. But that was going to change after today. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A freshly cut key sat in the bottom of the bag, wrapped in some parchment paper and Sherlock was almost giddy with excitement over this new step in their relationship. A key meant he wished their meetings to be of a more permanent and exclusive nature. He’d been mulling it over for the past few weeks, deciding if he really wanted to put his heart on the line for someone who might consider him only a casual hookup. A convenient fuck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But every time they met and John’s face lit up with a smile, Sherlock could feel all his worries fly out the window. John would never hurt him. John was everything that was still good in the world and the reason Sherlock was able to exist in it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was nearing eleven thirty when he spotted John turning the corner down the street. The sight of him warmed his chest and Sherlock was quick to his feet, practically flying out of the flat and down the stairs to the door. John always knocked to be let in. He said it was because he didn’t want to be seen wandering the halls like some vagrant if Sherlock wasn’t home and if he was, Sherlock would have to let him into the flat anyway so he might as well meet him at the entrance to the complex. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The knock came and after taking a breath to try and cool his excitement, Sherlock reached out and opened it. John stood before him on the front stoop, illuminated by the city lights. His cheeks, ears and nose had gone red from the cold and his jacket collar was pulled up higher to try and block the wind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock gave him a quick once over then stepped back to allow him entry. Silently they made their way back up to the flat and once John was surrounded by their little home once again, peeling off his jacket and closing the blinds, Sherlock shut the door and locked it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched John rub his hands together in front of the fire, trying to warm them up before initiating contact with Sherlock. It was a kind gesture but Sherlock didn’t care to be apart from him for one more second, cold hands be damned. He crossed the room in three large steps, before reaching out and pulling John into his arms. Their lips met and Sherlock shivered from the cold caress of John’s against his own. It felt like he was the only thing that could warm the smaller man up and he planned to take the task seriously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve missed you.” he whispered against his lips as they forgot about everything else and made their way to the bedroom. Business could wait till after, they had more pressing matters to attend to. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Storm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Some serious talk</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The strong gusts of wind pushed against the windows, making them rattle as the frames shook. John had just finished adding more wood to the fire when Sherlock came back into the bedroom with two cups of tea. He paused on the threshold, watching as the smaller man stood up and walked towards the window to peek out the blind. He was momentarily mesmerized by the sight of dancing colors across his lovers naked skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Setting the tea down on the small makeshift table, Sherlock crossed over to where John was standing and stood behind him. He lifted the sides of his robe to encompass the other man as well, holding him tight as they gazed at the snow that was beginning to fall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wish I’d worn something heavier.” John commented before he let the drape fall closed once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock smiled against the back of his head, secretly pleased by the change in weather. “I suppose we’ll have to stay here tonight.” It wasn’t how they did things but the bad weather would mean they could stay isolated from the rest of the world for a few more hours. Usually they would meet and by two or three in the morning, would have to separate to make it back to their respective homes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John tilted his head back, leaning against Sherlock’s shoulder to look up at him, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you hoped for this outcome.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it means a few extra hours in your company I’d gladly learn to control the weather.” Sherlock murmured, moving his head so he could press his lips against John’s neck. He loved the smell there. It was so clean and pure and one hundred percent John. If it was possible to bottle the smell, he would have done it ages ago.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s eyes fell closed as he tilted his head further to the side to allow Sherlock better access to his neck. “You’re ridiculous.” he murmured. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They moved back towards the bed, each far too cold to stay outside the comfort of the blankets for long. Once settled, Sherlock handed John one of the teacups and curled up against his side to watch the flames. It felt right being in their small flat, all nice and cozy beneath the covers as the storm raged on outside. It was like their lives. Both of them stuck in the chaotic world, just hanging on but when they were here, together, they could be once again at peace. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I brought you some more medicine and vitamins.” Sherlock said, breaking the silence after they were nearly finished with their tea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s response seemed confused, “I didn’t ask for any.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know. You probably have enough from last time but I wanted to ensure with the change in weather lately that you had enough vitamin D on hand.” Sherlock explained, “It’s not like you’re getting much sun to begin with and with the shift in cold weather, you don’t see much daylight.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finishing his tea, John set the empty mug on the floor beside the bed, then shifted closer to Sherlock to press a kiss to his shoulder. “Thank you but you know there’s an upside to this. Less sunlight means more time in the shadows with you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Secretly pleased by the comment, Sherlock hid his smile behind his mug. He didn’t want to pressure John or push him away but there was just something about him that had Sherlock feeling freer. Things with John were easy and whenever they were together, Sherlock found himself able to relax. He didn’t have to worry about anything that was going on because he knew that John would help him through it if necessary. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could be with me all the time.” he murmured, not daring to look at John as he said the words, worrying that the expression on the other man's face would break his heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he was right to worry. As soon as the words were out, there was a shift in the atmosphere of their little haven. John had grown tense beside him, his whole body rigid. This was why Sherlock never brought up the subject but apparently he couldn’t stifle the comment this time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He set his own mug aside, turning towards John to take his hands and try to keep him from fleeing. His partner looked like a deer in the headlights, frozen before him, expression unreadable beyond the fear he could see flashing through those bright blue eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why would you say that?” John’s voice was so low it was near a whisper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was merely suggesting our time together could be extended beyond the few hours we get every third day.” Sherlock explained. It seemed perfectly rational to him that if John did want to spend more time with him; to never be apart from him like Sherlock wished, there was in fact a way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This didn’t sit any easier with John as he pulled his hands from Sherlock’s and looked at him with a solemn expression on his face. “How did you know?” was his next question and Sherlock couldn’t help from smirking. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The more time we spent together, the more obvious it became.” Sherlock replied, “I’ve interacted with your kind before John, I know what they can do and how it feels.” He left out the part about his brother basically running the entire system from the background. This revelation was already taking its toll on John and adding to it would ensure he never saw him again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John was up and out of the bed by then, pulling on his pants and trousers in a hurry. It was like a bucket of water had been splashed over his head and he was awoken from a wonderful dream into a horrid reality. He wanted to escape, get away before things escalated. He cursed himself for allowing this to happen. He’d become too complacent and dare he say, happy with their situation and hadn’t been paying attention to the warning signs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow as his hurried attempt to dress. “It’s a mess outside, if you leave now, you’ll freeze.” he had reached out a hand to try and tug John back to the bed but John was quicker and stepped back out of reach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have you known?” he snapped, anxiety beginning to fill his entire body as he thought of how long this little tryst had been going on. He had allowed himself to feel safe with Sherlock but now he was discovering that his secret was out to the one person he had hoped never to tell. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock gave him an odd look as he calculated the exact date of the discovery, “The third time we met. Though I would say definitively the first time you took me to bed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John wanted to pull his hair out, he couldn’t believe Sherlock had known for nearly a year and hadn’t said anything. Was that a good sign? Or had he just been biding his time trying to convince John that life with him would be better than the freedom John had now? Was this all some sort of game to entrap him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus!” he snatched up his shirt and pulled it on before beginning to pace back and forth in the small space. “You’ve known for ten months and you didn’t think to mention it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock gave a small shrug, “I was following your lead. You didn’t mention that you knew anything about my circumstances, so I was giving you the same courtesy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not the same and you know it.” John snapped, turning on Sherlock, “You’re not the one in bloody hiding. The one trying to stop this crazy system without getting caught.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock got to his feet and came around the side of the bed to stand in front of John, placing his hands on the other man’s shoulders to still him. “I’m not here to entrap you.” he said firmly, knowing that was what was most likely going through John’s head. “I’ve never even mentioned it before today.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why did you bring it up today?” John asked, finally looking up at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I thought you were getting tired of us being in the dark.” Sherlock said, “And it seemed like a perfectly logical solution.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe to you.” John grumbled. He still felt fidgety and didn’t particularly want to be touched at the moment by anyone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It would be for you as well,” Sherlock countered, “Think about it. You would be free to live your life again John. You would be out in the world, able to practice medicine if you wanted.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean, if you wanted.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would support whatever you wanted to do.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John shook the hands from his shoulders, stepping back to put some distance between them. “You don’t even know if they’d allow it. Do you have any idea how long the wait list is for a sentinel? For every ten of you, there’s one of me. What happens if we come forward and there’s someone deemed more important than you on the list? That’s not protection Sherlock, that’s servitude.” John strode out of the bedroom and into the small sitting room where they’d left their coats and other items. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We wouldn’t have to worry about that,” Sherlock assured him, “I’m one of the few who have the ability to invoke the sentinel charter. If I came forward and stated my claim to you, they would have no choice but to step back. They’d have no power over you John. You’d essentially be a free man.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I chose to bond with you.” John reminded him as he pulled his coat on and did up the zipper. “Until I’m bonded to a sentinel, I’m just another guide. A trophy to be traded to the highest bidder.” He slipped his shoes on and picked up the bag that contained the vitamins Sherlock had brought with him. “That’s what I’m fighting against, Sherlock, I can’t become part of it.” he looked down at the bag, his hand on the doors handle, ready to leave, “I might be safe with you but what about the rest? What about the ten year old who’s terrified he’ll be discovered and taken from his family. I’m sorry. I know you mean well but I just can’t.” he opened the door and stepped into the hall, Sherlock hot on his heels, wrapped only in his robe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John, don’t be an idiot!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But John had already made it down the stairs and was out the door before Sherlock could properly get dressed to follow him. Cursing himself, the taller man retreated back to the warmth of the small flat. He had certainly screwed things up this time. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>unedited. I wrote half of this yesterday and it wasn't finished enough to post, so I skipped yesterday. We'll see if I get another out tonight to make up for it but I don't think so.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Dance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Enter big brother</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A bit of a sidestep from Johnlock in order to lay down some basics of the world. Never attempted this AU before, so it should be interesting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The corridors of the interior building at Sentinel Hill were a dull grey that hurt his eyes every time he saw it. It wasn’t the color itself but what it stood for that made the whole place seem sterile and foreboding. Grey was a neutral color and therefore wouldn’t upset those who passed by. In fact, everything inside was grey or black and white, which Sherlock found dreadfully boring. The stainless steel doors and fixtures spoke to the institutionalization of the process; cold and inhumane. It was why Sherlock rarely visited. He hated the place and everything it stood for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sentinel Hill was located in central London on a plot of land that stretched a block either way. There were five buildings in total; one a school that taught newly discovered guides and sentinels how to control their skills and work together for a better functioning Britain. The second was the dormitory which housed these students. Third was a holding block that contained rooms for both gifts. If it was a zoned out sentinel unable to get ahold of themselves, they would be sent to one of the silence rooms where they would await one of the guides on staff. If it was a guide, it was more of a detention center. If one asked the British government why these rooms were necessary, they would say an unbonded guide is not fully capable of making the right decisions and needed time to reflect. In other words, they were caught trying to cheat the system, either by choosing to bond with a sentinel before their call date or by running away. The fourth building contained London’s elite policing task force, offices belonging to high ranking teams of guides and sentinels who together managed to deal with the worst humanity had to offer. Sherlock liked to think of them as ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>sniffer dogs</span>
  </em>
  <span>’. The central building was taller than the rest, acting as the heart of the institution and at the very top level, Government agents were overseeing everything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This alone would have been reason enough for Sherlock to keep his distance. He hated getting involved in politics and tried his best to avoid The Hill, whenever physically possible. But sometimes needs must and he found himself walking down the halls yet again, footsteps echoing off the walls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He came to a set of double doors, pushing through into an office. Behind the desk was a woman Sherlock recognized as his brother’s latest guide. Her hair was tucked back neatly and she was sitting in a leather chair, reading something on her phone as he approached. One glance up was all she needed before a button was pressed and the doors behind her opened to the interior office. Sherlock said nothing as he continued through, into a much larger room with multiple bookshelves lining the walls that weren’t windows. His brother was currently on the phone with someone, his back turned and his gaze set looking out over the newly snow covered courtyards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“..yes, that will do. And tell Sir Arthur he’s expected at the next event. His appearance will do wonders for the numbers.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock dropped unceremoniously into one of the leather chairs before his brother's mahogany desk, taking a moment to stretch out his long legs and really sink into the comfort of the seat. It was one of the things that annoyed his older brother; slouching, and Sherlock took every opportunity to indulge. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft turned at the commotion, gave his brother a look then quickly ended his phone call. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Arthur still giving you trouble about his attendance?” Sherlock smirked, “I wonder why that could be? It wouldn’t have to do with the fact you’ve paraded him around like some sort of poster boy for the young guides of Britain to follow, assuming they enjoy watching a decorated man continually degraded by his sentinel. What could inspire them more to sign their lives away then seeing the one guide with the most power in Britain, attempt to divorce the woman who abused him for seventeen years.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could tell he’d hit a sore spot when Mycroft’s eyebrow gave a twitch of annoyance. “Or maybe it’s the wife you’re worried about. Numbers for guides are so low that allowing the separation would mean freedom to them. A win for the future. Rise up and all that nonsense. Give an inch to take a mile.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft took a seat across from Sherlock, rolling his eyes at his brother's suggestions. “You’re slipping if you think I’m going to provide you with details.” he said, reaching out to pick up three files before sliding them across the desk in Sherlock’s direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Sherlock’s turn to roll his eyes and he let his head fall back against the back of the chair, “More? Really?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Must we do this dance every time I call you in?” Mycroft asked, sitting back once Sherlock had taken the folders from him. “One of these days you’ll be expected to bond. A level five like yourself is uncommon but one that won’t bond is rare. You’re getting older brother and while your numbers are still acceptable, some think you’re slipping.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock scoffed, flipping open the folders to see the newest selections his brother had made for him. “I’m not slipping. I just take no joy in working retrieval. Give me an actual case and I’ll prove to you just how confident I am.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft gave a small shake of his head, “You know I have no control over the tasks they delegate you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eyes narrowing, Sherlock peered above the folder at his brother, “Don’t lie to me. I know you had something to do with my recent switch to retrieval. I know you’re hoping that while I’m out searching for unbonded, unregistered guides, that I’ll stumble on one I can’t resist. You think I’ll be motivated to find someone just so I’ll be allowed to switch back to active duty.” he closed the files and set them down on the edge of the desk, “But as you can see, a year in retrieval and I’m still unbonded.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please enlighten me,” Mycroft said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk, “Why is it you refuse to find a guide for yourself? It must be dreadful. All five levels firing at once, demanding attention, don’t you wish you could just block it out and focus on one?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock frowned. It was indeed something he struggled with and had all his life. When all five of his senses went into overload or when he couldn’t break free of one. It was a delicate balance and he’d had his fair share of trips to the silence rooms in building three. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t it be easier to find a guide to help you through?” Mycroft continued, “After all, you’re of a high enough level that you could choose any of the current unbonded to be your partner.” he pushed the corner of the folders back in Sherlock’s direction, “There’s a guide in there that’s managed to handle four senses at once. They won’t be available for long and they would be perfect for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Marsha Hannigan, yes, I saw.” Sherlock grumbled, “I also saw that she’s married with three children to one of the ungifted. She must have been a new retrieval to have lasted so long without detection and now you’ve taken her from her family and forced her to undergo training for something she wants no part of.” he shifted to sit up and glared across at his brother, “I won’t have any part in destroying a woman’s life, just because she can calm me down when things get out of hand. I suppose you haven’t even considered her feelings about the matter. What if her partner wants to bond? Hmm? How do you think her husband will feel about that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He has no say. Guides are rare occurrences in British bloodlines as it is. It’s Mrs. Hannigan’s fault for not coming forward about her gift when it first manifested. She has only herself to blame for breaking apart a family that shouldn’t have existed to begin with.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lack of empathy his brother displayed, twisted Sherlock’s stomach and he found himself feeling sick. True he’d been called heartless himself on several occasions but to rip a woman away from her family and then blame her for the heartache that ensued was a new level of cruelty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There’s the chance her new sentinel won’t wish to bond.” Mycroft said, waving off the worries his brother seemed to be displaying. “She would be free to continue her life with her family, given she reports in each morning.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how likely is that?” Sherlock asked, pushing himself up to his feet. The lack of movement and the heavy topics making him itch. “In all your time in office, how often has a sentinel denied bonding with their guide? Once? Twice? You know it’s almost unheard of. Sentinel’s are highly territorial. We don’t like to share. Once we get our hands on a guide, come hell or high water, we’re not letting them go.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is that why you’ve refused all this time?” Mycroft asked, watching Sherlock pace the length of the room. “You don’t want to feel like a glorified babysitter? I can assure you, there are ways to be partnered with one without having to look after them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock scoffed, “You mean like your latest. How many guides has it been now, Mycroft? Eleven? You’re one to talk when you can’t keep a guide for more than six months at a time. And why is that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mycroft’s mouth went into a thin line, all amusement draining from his face, “I provide a service, an internship if you will. In exchange for their assistance, I provide a jumping off point for guides looking to experience what a symbiotic relationship is like. If they’re worried about how it will work, I merely allow them a chance to test the waters before they jump in.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had been a low dig to begin with and Sherlock wasn’t sure what had made him bring it up. Possibly he was feeling antsy over what had happened with John a week ago. He hadn’t seen nor heard from the other man since he’d made the ludicrous suggestion they become paired. John had seemed so frightened of the idea that he practically jumped out of their bed and ran off to hide. And who could blame him if this was the life he was hiding away from. No one wanted their future dictated for them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that didn’t mean Sherlock wasn’t hurting. After everything they’d shared for the past six months, he had thought John would at least trust him not to push or say anything about his gift. He knew it was a delicate subject given John’s work with the resistance and he had tried to express his support for it every chance he got. Unfortunately it didn’t seem enough and Sherlock had scared off the one person he thought might be his match.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t apologize to Mycroft however. It would be a cold day in hell when he apologized to his brother for anything. But his brother was right. There were few sentinels that were willing to take on a guide and not bond with them, even fewer who were prepared to have that guide leave them after a short time period. With guides so rare, any chance a sentinel had to get their hands on one, they made sure to cement that partnership as soon as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe that’s why he had brought up the idea to John. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t worry about the other man being found out and dragged back to The Hill to be processed. Even worse, what would happen to him if he was force bonded to a sentinel that discovered him on the streets? His heart would break to see John in such circumstances, so perhaps he’d made the suggestion to ensure that never happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you actually need something Mycroft? Or did you just bring me in to parade the newest batch of guides under my nose?” He was done with this conversation. Sherlock just wanted to escape, to get outside and breath in the cold winter air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had hoped you might have changed your mind but I don’t know why I bother.” Mycroft took the files and collected them neatly into a pile. “One of these days brother, you’re going to be expected to find a guide to bond with. I’m merely trying to help you make that choice yourself before others make it for you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock turned another glare on his brother, “Are we done?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nodding, Mycroft slipped the files into a drawer, already it looked like he was moving on to the next piece of business. It was as much of a dismissal as Sherlock was likely to get and so he turned and stormed towards the door only to be stopped by his brother's voice again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, and Sherlock, your little side experiment has been noted. You might want to think about moving it before an official inquiry begins.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock paused for only a second before turning the handle and exiting the office. There was nothing to say to Mycroft’s comment. It was a warning that he’d been discovered once again and that if he didn’t wish to be charged or worse, then he needed to move locations once again. Blast it. He had been looking for some excuse to bury his head in the sand after John’s refusal and now he didn’t even have the work to distract him</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Choose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John's a bit messed up after storming out.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He’d been bloody freezing by the time he made it back to the tunnels and John was beginning to rethink his exit. He should have stayed at the flat until the storm broke but he’d been so keyed up that he’d clammered to get outside, away from Sherlock. At first the cold wind and snow that blew against him had been welcomed, his skin felt like it was on fire from the rage he was feeling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why had Sherlock ruined things? John had enjoyed their little rendezvous, the little escapes from the rest of the world and then Sherlock had to open his big mouth and ruin everything by saying he knew exactly what John was. He had ruined the one thing that John looked forward to throughout the week, the one thing that made this hell of a life worth putting up with; now it was gone. It figured that things would end up this way. John had never been lucky when it came to any sort of happiness. At least he was still alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d stomped through the tunnels, ignoring the look of alarm that Bill Murray gave him when he returned earlier than expected, soaking to the bone. He could tell his friend wanted to ask him what had happened but after seeing the look on John’s face, had decided it best to keep his curiosity to himself. Proceeding past the fence, John had gone straight to the tent he’d been calling home for the past three years. The bag he was holding full of vitamins slammed against the ground as he threw it down with a curse. The burst of anger had felt good at the time but now looking back, he wished he’d had better control over himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now several hours later, with a cool head, he regretted breaking the bottles in his rage because Sherlock had been right about it being something greatly needed in the underground. So he was on his knees, scooping up the content, trying to salvage the few vitamins that he could from the floor. Once his hand was full, he placed them in an empty glass jar he’d been keeping for bandages or poultices. The work was repetitive and wouldn’t let him escape his worried thoughts. Even after several hours, he was still running through things and trying to come to terms with the end of the longest relationship he’d ever had. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been angry but it wasn’t just with Sherlock. He was angry at himself for getting stuck in that mess to begin with. He had allowed himself to get close to a sentinel, knowing how dangerous it was. If Sherlock had a mind for it, he could have turned John in from the first minute he discovered he was a guide and there would have been nothing John could do to prevent it. He’d seen the badge in Sherlock’s clothes after a month of the two of them meeting in secret. He knew he was part of the task force and that meant he was probably part of the retrieval unit; a group of sentinel, guide teams that went around locating unbonded guides in hiding and dragging them to The Hill to be cataloged and sold to the highest bidder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he’d first found out about Sherlock’s connection to the institution that John was trying to destroy, he had nearly panicked. How he had allowed himself to get so close to someone who imprisoned people like John for the crime of choosing how they lived their lives was jaw dropping. It had been an internal struggle for him, deciding if it was worth the risk to continue meeting the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes. But by then, he knew he was already too deep to do anything but continue. So against his better judgement, he had continued the tryst. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then one day, Sherlock had completely blindsided him by asking if there was anything he could do to help. He never once said he suspected John was a guide himself, only that he knew he worked with the underground resistance. So without giving too much away, John had suggested that if he wanted to help, he could bring vitamins and other medicines that were increasingly hard to get a hold of. What surprised him even more was Sherlock had followed through and the next time they met, he had arrived to find two large bags full of medications, vitamins and medical supplies. John had practically jumped his bones then and there, unable to hide the relief he was feeling that Sherlock wasn’t just another sentinel drone who was attempting to uncover one of the larger camps. He actually cared enough to provide John with what he’d asked for and all in an attempt to help. Every other sentinel that John knew, with the exception of those who were part of the resistance already, would have tried to integrate him for more information. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From that moment on, every third time they met up, there would be a bag with medical supplies and other items set on the small table in the sitting room, waiting for John. They didn’t talk about it, it just became a silent agreement that it would happen. That was the last time Sherlock had made any mention of the resistance or guides. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until last night, when he so casually stated that he knew exactly what John was and that he should bind himself to Sherlock so he could come out of hiding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What John hated the most was for a moment he had been considering it. He actually thought that it would be a relief. He would be able to sleep in a comfortable bed and have easy access to showers and other necessities that he couldn’t even remember being able to use without the risk to his life. He wouldn’t have to go hungry or need to ration supplies, he wouldn’t be forced to wear every piece of clothing he had just to try and stay warm when it got cold. And best of all, he would be with Sherlock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But what was the cost? If he decided to choose that life, he would be turning his back on the people who had protected him and kept him safe all these years. He would be turning his back on the next generation of scared guides, children who didn’t know how to use their gift or how to keep it quiet from the rest of the world so they could live the way they wanted. Would he really give that up for a nice meal and a warm bed? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he had lashed out at Sherlock and fled because he was terrified that he might choose to go with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran his hands over his face, trying to shake the despair he felt over losing the one good thing in his life. That’s when he noticed the brown paper parcel that had fallen from the bag when he’d tossed it at the ground. Reaching a hand out, he picked it up from where it had landed just under his cot. The package wasn’t big, no larger than the palm of his hand. He didn’t have any idea what it could be. Usually everything Sherlock gave him was clearly labeled, so this was something new. He wondered for a second if he should just get rid of it but knew that both curiosity and lack of resources would haunt him if he did. So he broke the seal of tape holding the paper in place and carefully unwrapped the package. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside there was a key. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John felt a bubble of laughter build in his chest before it escaped his lips. Slapping a hand over his mouth, he tried to silence the sound before it got any further. Staring down at the key, shoulders threatening to shake as tears filled the corners of his eyes, John felt his heart breaking. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I realized that sometimes I'm trying so fast that I completely miss words. If that's happened anywhere in this, please let me know so I can fix it for future readers. Thanks.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Power Outage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Short interlude before the boys get back together.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The lights were on and then suddenly everything was pitch black. The screams and shouts of surprise filled the tunnels seconds later. John had been sleeping when it happened but the cries woke him. He scrambled from his cot to his feet, quickly pulling on the set of trousers that he’d discarded previously. His hands were able to locate the piece of clothing, without any light, the tent being such a small space. Once dressed, he sought out his next target, a battery powered flashlight he kept on hand in case of emergencies just like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The beam cut through the darkness, making John wince from the sudden blast. The last time something like this happened, it had been a raid. Their location had been leaked and sentinel hill had teams of retrievers come through arresting everyone to be processed in tower three. He had managed to grab his bags and get out, just in time to miss being picked up. He could still recall the sounds of chaos as he stood a block away and watched helplessly as the next generation was loaded into the back of vans, their futures taken away from them in the blink of an eye. This time, he was going to fight back. He wasn’t going to let those children, the ones that he’d looked after and sheltered for three years, be stripped of the choice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grabbing the go bag that he made sure was prepared every night before he went to bed in case of emergencies like this, John swung the strap over his head. Without a second though, he pushed against the fabric entrance of his tent and headed into the chaos. He couldn’t afford to be nostalgic for the loss of the place he’d called home the last three years, not when there were lives at stake. So he stepped out into the darkness and chaos that was the reality of his life and hoped he could save at least someone. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Cereal</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Back to the flat</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“This is bloody heavy.” Wiggins complained as he lugged the box full of equipment up the stairs after Sherlock. “Why did your brother have to give away where we was?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If he was the one to locate our lab, I doubt he would have gone to the trouble of warning us.” Sherlock drawled as he shifted his own smaller box to one hand while he reached out to unlock the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With everyone of his usual bolt holes having been previously ransacked, Sherlock had run out of ideas of where to go. This was the only remaining location that didn’t fall under Mycroft’s radar and while it didn’t have much, they could at least store the supplies there until another property could be acquired. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, tell him to keep them off our backs.” Wiggins said as if it were the most logical thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That would require asking for a favor and it would be a cold day in hell before I ask Mycroft for anything.” Sherlock scoffed, pocketing the key he’d used to unlock the door before turning the handle and pushing in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t been back here since that terrible night when he’d suggested John come out of hiding and the man had stormed off. The rage on John’s face as he charged out of the flat and headed off into the cold weather had been a rude awakening. Sherlock had been living in a dream, thinking that he could have an ounce of happiness. Now his nights were plagued with dreams of John, always starting out wonderfully before ending with the slam of the door. Repurposing the space as storage seemed like the best thing he could do for now since he wouldn’t need to come here anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pushing open the door only a little, Sherlock found himself pausing. Something wasn’t right. There were grime on the bottom of the handle and now that he looked closer, muddy scuff marks on the floorboards leading through. The evidence pointed to someone else being inside. He glazed along the seam of the door, spotting the shadow that stood ready for him to enter. Smirking, he pressed forward wanting to see who thought they were clever enough to sneak into his flat. As soon as the door was fully open and he had taken the first step inside, Sherlock found himself pinned against the wall. His eyes zeroed in on those of his attacker and he found himself momentarily speechless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sherlock? Jesus! What are you doing here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could ask you the same thing, John.” he was so distracted by the man still holding him against the wall that Sherlock didn’t even noticed Wiggins slip into the room and put his box down. “What are you doing here? I thought you were finished with this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John stepped back and let go of Sherlock, turning his attention to Wiggins. “Who’s that?” he asked, eyes glaring daggers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s fine. He’s with me.” Sherlock said, placing his own box on top of the one Wiggins had brought in. The look on John’s face made him roll his eyes, “Not ‘with’ me, with me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m his protege.” Wiggins said proudly, crossing his arms over his chest. “And who might you be?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before John could answer, Sherlock stepped over to Wiggin’s and gave him a slight push towards the still open door. “Never mind him, we still have the last of the supplies to move. So why don’t you go and round those up for me while I deal with this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wiggins made a show of straightening his back and looking menacing as he stepped around John, making sure to keep eye contact with him till he was out the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock’s eyes were getting a work out as he once again rolled them as he closed the door behind his friend. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re protege?” John asked, skeptical of the whole thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock shrugged, and came further into the room, eyes traveling over the content of the apartment. “He’s someone I work with.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At the hill? Is he your partner?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Noooo,” Sherlock said, drawing out the word in disbelief that John would ever think that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John shifted uncomfortably on his feet, “So, I’m not the only person you meet here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock immediately looked up from his search to pin his gaze on John. It almost seemed as if he was jealous of the fact Sherlock had brought Wiggin’s to the flat. But John had been the one to storm out, so why was he suddenly jealous? And more to the point, why was he here?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did you get in?” Sherlock finally asked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John reached into his pocket and pulled out the newly cut key that Sherlock had stashed away in the bag of vitamins the last time they’d met. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t think you would be by during the day but then I don’t really know your schedule. I only know that we met at night and that you had another place somewhere else.” John explained, “I naturally assumed you wouldn’t be back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do own the property.” Sherlock pointed out, “So why are you here John?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It seemed like John wasn’t sure how to respond to that question. He averted his eyes from Sherlock, looking anywhere but directly at him. His body language had shifted, he was standing straighter, stiffer, almost as if he were preparing for some sort of attack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John?” Sherlock urged him to explain but as he looked at the other man, something caught his eye. There was a duffel bag set up against the wall just behind him and the door to the other room was slightly ajar. “Are you living here?” he asked even as he crossed the space between them and headed for the bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John looked like he was about to stop Sherlock, pull him back but by then Sherlock was already through the door and looking gobsmacked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There was a raid last night,” John tried to explain, “We got out but there wasn’t anywhere to go and it was so cold out...I didn’t want them to freeze.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock’s mouth hung open as he took in the sight before him. There were two children sitting cross legged on the floor, happily munching away on what appeared to be some sort of bowl made out of a box. A third was tucked in the bed, a pile of blankets over top of them as they slept. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You...have children?” was all he could think to say when the kids looked up at him from the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God no,” John said quickly, “They were in the camp with me. This is Isabella and Liam and the little guy in the bed is Daniel. They were the few I managed to get out. Isabella and Liam are both guide sensitive and Daniel is Isabella’s younger brother who hasn’t shown any signs one way or the other. I’m hoping their parents made it out in all the chaos but we probably won’t know for some time yet. So I’m looking after them temporarily.”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you brought them here?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t exactly have many options and you gave me a key,” John reminded him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Frowning, Sherlock looked down at the two children, they must have both been under ten. Both of them looked a mess, mud on their clothes that spoke of a hurried getaway. But regardless of what had happened the previous night, they seemed happy enough for the moment, munching on spoonfuls of some colorful confection in a box. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are they eating?” Sherlock asked, unable to keep the disgust from his voice. Whatever it was didn’t look at all edible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cereal.” John said, “I popped out to the shop around the corner and bought some while they were sleeping.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it’s in a box.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the first smile John had given him throughout this whole bizarre exchange, “Yeah. I knew we didn’t have bowls so I opted for the camping kind. All you need is some milk and I had spoons so it was the easiest solution. Just have to cut the box and the bag inside acts as a makeshift bowl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s barbaric.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They seem to like it well enough.” John gave a shrug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, Sherlock turned and grabbed John by the arm, tugging him out of the room and away from little ears. “John, we need to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Skeptical</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sherlock and John have a serious discussion</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They were sitting across from one another at a small round table that sat in the other room. John was feeling nervous, he had no idea what Sherlock was going to say to him. He hadn’t expected the other man to show up at the flat before John had figured out a plan. This was supposed to be a temporary solution until he could locate the children’s parents and deliver them safely to their arms. Unfortunately fate had a funny way of spitting on John’s plans and now he was sitting across from a potential dangerous situation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t tell what Sherlock was thinking, his expression was so closed off at the moment as he stared across the table at his former lover. This was a situation he never expected to be in. The raid had happened the day before and Sherlock had told him previously that he only came to the flat when John was going to be there. Now Sherlock was bringing boxes and looked like he planned to move in and that meant John would be back on the streets with three children under the age of ten. If Sherlock kicked him out now, there was no way John wouldn’t be picked up by the service and the four of them delivered to Sentinel Hill. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The intense stare he was receiving from Sherlock was unnerving and John couldn’t meet his eyes as he shifted uncomfortably on the wooden chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock leaned forward in his chair and set his elbows on the table, steepling his hands in front of his face, “What exactly is your plan John?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Originally?” John finally looked up meeting Sherlock’s piercing stare, “I didn’t exactly have a plan. The raid happened in the middle of the night. I managed to grab my go bag-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a go bag?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m an unbonded, unregistered guide living under the radar of the British Government, of course I have a go bag.” John stated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock seemed to accept this logical argument and made a gesture for him to continue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John cleared his throat before continuing, “I grabbed my go bag and managed to get to one of the far tunnels. Luckily the raid teams seemed to be causing a commotion through the new entrance, so I had time to try and help the few I could. I got a few families out and then Liam’s father thrust him into my arms and asked me to get him to safety while he went back for his wife. We were on our way out when I came across Isabella holding Daniel, both of them were crying. I didn’t know exactly what had happened till after we got out but she said that her parents had tried to distract the sentinel teams so they could escape. I imagine they were taken to the Hill but I’m hopeful the authorities will be more lenient to them given the mother’s a sentinel and the father’s ungifted. Anyway, I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go and it was clearly too cold for the kids, so I used the key you spirited away in my bag and brought them here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, yes,” Sherlock seemed bored with the information, gesturing for John to speed up, “You’ve already explained that. I want to know what your plan is now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John went silent for a few minutes, looking towards the fire that was shared by the two rooms. He knew the kids were too distracted to care what they were talking about but he couldn’t help the growing dread in his stomach. He had a rough idea of what he was going to do but a lot of that would depend on Sherlock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want to use the flat.” Sherlock deduced without John saying anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I had planned to lay low for a few days while I figured out how to get in contact with their parents.” John admitted, “And it seemed the safest place to hide them away while I did that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock nodded, “Of course. It’s off the grid, no one would ever suspect a property owned by a sentinel would be harboring fugitives. It was the logical choice.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John was momentarily flabbergast and he found himself looking back to Sherlock, “You...you’re not going to hand us in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you’re part of the receiving squad. I saw your badge months ago.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, regrettably,” Sherlock said leaning back in his chair, fingers drumming on the table top. “It’s not by choice, I assure you. But regardless of my affiliations with the group, I never once thought to turn you over to the authorities in the time we’ve known each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was true that John had never been worried for his freedom when he was with Sherlock, the other man only bringing up his choice to be a renegade during their final meeting. And had he wished to truly be rid of John after everything that had happened, he could have done so the moment he found out that John was squatting in his flat. The fact they were having a proper discussion now was further proof Sherlock meant him no harm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what is the plan?” Sherlock asked again. “Obviously you wish to locate the parents but the logistics of that will be tricky given your status. I might be able to locate their records if you have their names, see if they’re in the system or not. Hopefully they’ve escaped but if not, we can cross that bridge when we come to it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was John’s turn to stare open mouthed. He had expected Sherlock to hand him in and if he didn’t, he expected him to ignore John, telling him to leave. Never in his wildest dreams did he expect Sherlock to help him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We?” he breathed, still shocked by the announcement. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock gave him a funny look as if he couldn’t understand if John was being deliberately obtuse or not. “Of course. How else were you thinking of infiltrating Sentinel Hill? You can’t very well walk in. You’d be discovered in seconds.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just...I never expect that you would want to help.” John said, “You work for the Hill. Helping me would put everything you have at risk. And if you’re caught things would be even worse. You’d be tried for treason.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock scoffed, “Hardly.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why do you want to help?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why is it so difficult for you to believe I want to help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I’m just skeptical of any Sentinel who doesn’t have an invested interest in the well being of a guide. You gain nothing from helping us.” John stated, placing his hands on the table. His posture relaxing with the news that Sherlock wouldn’t be handing them over to the authorities. “The only sentinels that help are those who have family members that are guides. It ensures they don’t double cross us. So why would you help?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is it really that far fetched that I would want to help you in any capacity I can, John?” Sherlock reached out a hand and placed it over John’s. It was a clear enough sign to anyone what he was really saying. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John licked his bottom lip as he looked down at the hand on top of his own. Sherlock had never betrayed him before and he sounded genuine in the way he spoke. Not to mention he had a better plan then John did and an actual way to execute it without putting anyone in immediate danger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me help you.” Sherlock’s voice seemed to calm his nerves and John finally gave a nod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright. I trust you.” John said, pulling his hand back enough so he could intertwine their fingers together. “What’s our next step?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock gave a catlike grin, a twinkle in his eye already telling John that the wheels were beginning to turn. “First, we have to ensure the children have a safe place to stay. This flat is alright for a temporary stay but it can’t function beyond that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what do we do because I honestly don’t have anywhere else to take them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nonsense John,” Sherlock already seemed to know where they were going, “You already said it yourself, no one would look for unregistered guides at a flat owned by a sentinel.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John frowned, “I’m not following.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t seriously believe this was where I lived, did you?” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Velvet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sherlock plays host</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A plan was set in motion, John cleaned up the children while Sherlock ran out to collect some new clothing for them from a nearby thrift shop.  When he returned, they all changed into the clothes before tucking the old ones into John’s bag for later. Making sure that all three looked presentable enough not to draw unwanted attention outside, John explained what the plan was to the two oldest. Then they packed everything else up and vacated the small flat to the confusion of Bill Wiggins who had returned to set up the new lab. Sherlock explained to his friend that he was going out and would be in touch, before directing the children out of the flat and down to the streets. Isabella and Liam took Sherlock’s hands and John carried Daniel in his arms as they made their way to the main street to catch a cab. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John knew nothing about Sherlock’s life outside of the small flat they had used together. He knew he was a sentinel and that he worked with the retrieval team. That he had expensive taste and was rather posh but then everyone John knew seemed rich in comparison to the lifestyle of those on the run. John was still wearing the clothes he had brought with him three years ago and when Sherlock came back to the flat and handed him the children's clothes as well as a new set for John, he couldn’t find words. He put them on, a new set of jeans, a button up and an oatmeal jumper that fit him perfectly and kept him warmer then he had been in some time. He’d been tempted to kiss Sherlock in gratitude but managed to stop before he did something he would regret. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The small group traveled for some twenty minutes, the neighborhoods they passed through getting wealthier and wealthier till they arrived in the richest district in London. While John became increasingly worried that they would be found out, Sherlock assured him that staying in the heart of the hive would be the best place to hide. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pulled up to a tall building with a drive up, John thought at first that it was some sort of mistake but Sherlock paid the cabbie and hopped out to swipe a card at the double door. There was one person watching at the front desk, the woman glanced up gave a quick, “Hello Mr. Holmes.” then went back to whatever she had been doing before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Following Sherlock through the lobby silently, the group grabbed an elevator. The doors closed and after swiping his card, Sherlock lifted Liam up to press the uppermost button for the penthouse flat. The kids seemed just as in awe of their surroundings as John was. The building was enormous and clearly expensive to live in and the fact Sherlock seemed to occupy the top flat seemed crazy. The doors opened to a marble hallway with two doors and Sherlock swept out of the elevator towards the one on the left. He entered a code into the doors keypad and it unlocked. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thankfully we only had Denise on security. She rarely pays attention, too caught up in her Sudoku puzzles. She won’t remember you or the children and as long as you stay in the flat till the next phase, it will be as if you’ve disappeared.” Sherlock explained, opening the door and stepping inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Isabella and Liam gave John a questioning look, both unsure if they should head inside the flat after everything they’d been taught. He gave them a nod and a reassuring smile and that seemed to be enough. They grinned back at him then turned and rushed into the flat. John followed after them, taking in the enormity of the space. The flat must have taken up half of that floor. Across from the door, there were large floor to roof windows that overlooked the city of London and the furnishings were all sleek and white. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Isabella rushed towards the large windows, placing her hands and face against the glass, “Wow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead of joining her at the window, Liam moved over to the extra large couch that dominated the room. He ran his hands over the fabric then placed his face against it, rubbing his cheeks with a big smile. “It’s so soft.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s velvet.” Sherlock commented as he hung up his coat and scarf. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John stared across at him as he mouthed the world in astonishment. He knew Sherlock was well off but this was outrageous. John hadn’t set foot in a place like this in years. The last time was when his parents had tried to auction him off to the highest bidder. They had paraded him around at the age of fifteen, having him visit countless rich sentinels that were willing to pay anything to have a guide and skip the legal line ups. It seemed in the end that he hadn’t escaped that life and momentarily John found himself panicking, especially when the door was closed behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock swept passed him and went into the kitchen that was open to the living room. He opened a couple of cupboards, searching for something and upon his third attempt seemed to have located what he’d been looking for. A package of chocolate covered biscuits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John watched as he crossed the room and set the opened package on a table in front of the couch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here.” he said, awkwardly offering the cookies to the children. “Biscuits. Should hold you over till we sort out what to do about the beds and lunch.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All John could think about was tiny fingers getting a hold of melted chocolate and touching everything in the flat. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Kids aren’t usually good at keeping their hands off furniture and your house is basically a white canvas waiting to be covered in chocolate. I’d hate for them to ruin anything.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock glanced at him and gave a quick shrug, “Not a problem. The flat’s a perk of the job.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With permission from Sherlock to eat the cookies, even if they were messy, Isabella and Liam started to scarf them down. Seeing his sister getting a treat, Daniel wiggled in John’s arms until the man finally relented and set him down on his feet to stumble over to the glass table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sherlock, can I have a word.” John asked, heading off to the side and into the kitchen. He was feeling increasingly uncomfortable with this whole mess. Maybe it would have been better to stay at the other flat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of the chocolate covered digestives in his mouth, Sherlock joined John. He looked like an overgrown kid himself with the cookie hanging out and John couldn’t look at him without smiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure this is a good idea.” he asked for the millionth time. “I understand hiding in plain sight but Christ, look at this place. There must be camera’s everywhere. What happens when someone asks about you suddenly housing three kids and right after a raid? Surely someone is going to connect the dots and realize you’re harboring us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re worrying for nothing John, honestly. This is the most secure building in all of London, aside from the towers at the Hill. I’m a highly prominent retriever who happens to be related to the head of government. I’m the least likely candidate to spirit away potential guides, least of all bring them to my residence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This place must cost an outrageous amount of money though and those three are under ten. They’re going to destroy it whether we try to stop them or not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like I said, it’s not a problem at all. The flat belongs to the Hill and the upkeep is paid for by my brother. They could trash the place for all I care, it’s too stuffy as it is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John raised an eyebrow, “You want them to trash the place so it feels less sterile?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly,” Sherlock grinned, “Now, we just need to sort out sleeping arrangements. I’ve a spare room but I’ve never actually had use for it till now. I imagine there’s a bed in there, though I can’t recall the size. In any case, it should be big enough for the children to share.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course Sherlock had a spare room that he had never entered before. It was just like him to ignore areas that he had no use for. “Right. Okay.” John nodded. “And me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock gave him a strange look and John suddenly felt like he was being examined under a microscope. Then just as quickly as the look appeared it was gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I rarely sleep, so you’re welcome to my bed. Or if you would prefer, the velvet couch is yours for the taking, though there aren’t any blinds for the windows so you’ll most likely be woken up at the crack of dawn.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having lived in the dark for so long, John found himself tempted to take the couch but he imagined the sun would irritate him to no end and if Sherlock wasn’t going to use his own bed, then there was no use letting the space go to waste. God, how long had it been since he’d had a full nights sleep in a bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your bed’s fine.” he finally said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This seemed to please Sherlock and before he could say more, the man was spinning around towards the children, “Who wants to check out the spare room with me?” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Handle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sherlock has everything under control</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sherlock scoffed, hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat as he made his way through the courtyard and towards tower four of Sentinel Hill. He was still feeling rather put out that John thought he couldn’t handle this on his own. They’d had a bit of a tiff about it earlier while the children were still sleeping, with John commenting on how Sherlock’s presence couldn’t possibly go unnoticed if he rarely worked at the Hill, the logistics were just against him. To which Sherlock had said he had a better chance than anyone of walking in without being immediately taken captive. The comment had been pointed towards John and had ended with Sherlock receiving a glare from the smaller man. He’d only been stating facts after all. If John walked into the tower, he would immediately be taken into custody. And the children...well, there was no sense trying that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he had gotten the names of the parents from a grumpy John and headed immediately to the site he was most likely to find them. When he arrived and scanned his badge to get through, security did raise an eyebrow but there were no objections to his being there, even if it was a bit out of character. He was certain his brother would be informed by the end of the day that he had been on the premises and exactly what he was doing. So it was likely he would only have one shot at this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ignoring everyone around him, Sherlock made his way through the various offices and towards the filing room. Taking a deep breath before he pushed open the doors to the massive room, Sherlock placed a smile on his lips. He didn’t understand it but people seemed to respond better when he smiled. It put them at ease when it should have had them worried. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello Molly, keeping busy?” he asked the meek young woman who was carrying a stack of files to the only desk in the room. She let out a shriek of surprise and almost dropped the files on the floor, were it not for Sherlock swooping in and catching them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, thank you.” she said quickly, recovering as he pulled the papers back into her hands, ‘Why are you down here, Sherlock? I rarely see you since they forced you to join the retrieval team.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes well, don’t really need to check up on people already in the system.” he said, smile tight, “speaking of, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cheeks flushed pink, she finally looked up at him, “A favor?” she asked softly, “What kind of favor?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I was hoping you could show me the compiled list of everyone who was brought in from the raid two nights ago.” he said quickly, not wanting to let her have a moment to form ideas about what that favor could be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shift in Molly’s demeanor was easy for Sherlock to see and moved to the desk to set the folders down by the computer. Focused on the work, all traces of the shy woman from seconds ago vanished. “Looking for someone in particular?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinked at the question. How did she know? Then a second later, his worry was replaced because there was no way she could know. No one knew aside from Wiggins and he wasn’t going to go parading around announcing to the world he’d seen Sherlock with a small group of guides. He knew better then that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just compiling a list for the training program.” Sherlock said, “I know there were a few young children found and I wanted to see if we’d given them a designation yet.” It was an easy enough lie. It was after all a part of the job, part of the paperwork; the part Sherlock hated and rarely did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, right.” she turned back to the computer and took a seat, “I can print you off a list of the names and who’s been registered but from what I understand there were several that have yet to show, so they can’t be classified either way.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Molly. Anything you can find would be helpful.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once she turned away to begin typing, he let the smile drop away. His mouth was actually sore from the strain of the position and he raised a hand to rub at his jaw absentmindedly. If it was Molly accessing the records for him, he wouldn’t have to leave an electronic trail behind. The most his brother would know was he’d visited the archives, not what he was doing there. As long as no one else was working on the list for training, he could fly under the radar with no one the wiser. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The printer to the side sparked to life with a terrible sound which jerked Sherlock out of his thoughts. He looked over at it wondering how many names would be on the document. How many lives had been destroyed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I took the liberty of adding in the cell blocks each of them is in, so you don’t have to go searching.” She said, spinning around in her chair to look up at him. “I hope that helps.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could have kissed her. It would more than help if it turned out one of the children’s parents were being held. He expected John had some sort of plan to break the parents out and knowing exactly what part of the tower they were in would be the best information they could gather. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you.” he said, picking up the small stack of pages now that the printer seemed to be finished. “You really are a lifesaver, Molly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He checked his watch and found he’d been in the building for just over twenty minutes. Accounting for the journey down from the top of the central tower, he estimated he had ten minutes before his brother would appear with questions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without another word, he swept from the room and back to the stairwell. He knew his brother detested leg work, so taking the stairs would mean Sherlock wouldn’t run into him on the way out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he pushed open the door that released him back into the snow covered courtyard, he couldn’t help but grin. He’d managed to handle the situation quite well, all things considered and he was going to have to make a point of it to John when he returned home. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Swimming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which I attempt to put the word in as many times as possible.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Damn it. None of them are on this list.” John grumbled as he looked over a few of the pages that contained names of people he had been in exile with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a good thing.” Sherlock reminded him, glancing up from his own set of sheets. “It means they weren’t captured in the raid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John frowned, slumping in his chair across from Sherlock, “True.” he admitted, “Now I just have to do the impossible and find them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure together we’ll be able to locate the parents in no time.” Sherlock said, leaning back in his chair to look across at John. It was rare to be the one that was encouraging and Sherlock was finding it rather difficult. Usually he took things at face value, never getting attached or letting emotions get in the way. He liked hard facts and logical conclusions, sentiment just made things an impossible mess to deal with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what’s our next move? We can’t just leave the kids to go and look for their parents.” John told him as he reached for the now cold tea he’d made when they started the search. “And I don’t think there’s anyone I would trust with them anyway. You were the one and only name on that list.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could always ask Billy to look after them.” Sherlock said thoughtfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John stared at him for a moment, brows drawn together in confusion as he tried to figure out who Sherlock was talking about. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wiggins,” Sherlock explained, “The man who was helping me move the lab equipment three days ago.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That wasn’t any better apparently because John’s eyes widened and he gave Sherlock a look that clearly asked, ‘<em>you can’t be serious?</em>’. Instead of vocalizing that, he just said one word, “No.” and the discussion of Wiggins possibly babysitting was put to rest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re just going to have to go out separately.” John said, pushing the pieces of paper back into a pile in the middle of the table. “One of us will stay with the kids and the other will go out and try to locate their parents. And since I know what they look like, it should probably be me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” Sherlock was quick to say. He didn’t even know he was going to say the word before it left his lips. The abruptness of the word surprised both him and John and they sat in silence just looking at each other for a few minutes. Conflicting emotions raced over John’s features and he broke eye contact first, looking towards the living room where the children were watching cartoons on television and laughing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sherlock, I can look after myself.” John told him softly. “I’ve been doing it my whole life and I’ve managed it this long. I don’t need you to protect me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock quickly latched on to the only rational argument he had, “What if they catch you? That would leave me with three young children to look after. We both know I’m incapable of looking after small humans on my own.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John crossed his arms over his chest and nodded, “Well, that’s true enough. If I hadn’t been here you probably would have forgotten to feed them or that they needed to be put to bed at a reasonable time.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How is it not reasonable to tell them to sleep when they feel tired?” Sherlock huffed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because kids often don’t know how tired they are and will try and push through till you want to pull your own hair out because of their grumpy attitude.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why is that?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John shrugged, “developing minds need rest. When kids are overtired they just...act out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then it’s a good thing you’re here to look after them because goodness knows I’d forget they were even here.” Sherlock commented as he collected up the papers into a neat pile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what are we going to do?” John asked, sipping his lukewarm tea, “because you don’t know what the parents look like and you also don’t want me to leave the flat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can see only one solution to this,” Sherlock said, standing up, “we both need to be out there looking together. You know what they look like and I can use my abilities to track them down.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The kids.” John reminded him but Sherlock was already sweeping out the door and across the hall to bang on his neighbors door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ten minutes later, John was being introduced to Sherlock’s neighbor, Mrs. Hudson. She had swept in and floored him with her warmth and cheer. Sherlock didn’t even need to ask her to look after the children, she was quick to offer. Apparently they were good friends and Mrs. Hudson loved having company of any sort, especially that which she could spoil. “Perhaps I’ll take them swimming in the pool.” she said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John boggled at her suggestion, looking to Sherlock for clarification that it would be safe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The pool is for tenants,” he explained, “No one would think it odd for Mrs. Hudson to take the three swimming. It would just be a grandparent looking after the grandchildren, no one would pay attention to them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And suits?” Sherlock shrugged, “I can get wiggins to purchase a few.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t even know if they can swim.” John admitted with worry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not to worry,” Mrs. Hudson said, waving off his fear, “there’s a paddling pool they can play in without fear of drowning. I imagine it will be just as fun to them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock tugged his gloves on and slapped his hands together, “Well now that that’s settled.” he reached down and grabbed John’s hand, tugging him out of the flat with a quick goodbye to Mrs. Hudson. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They got onto the elevator and as they were going down, Sherlock’s phone pinged with a message from his brother. He had expected his brother to contact him about his registered entrance into tower four earlier then this and he couldn’t help smirking. Mycroft was slipping. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He dug his phone out and looked down at the text. Mycroft rarely bothered phoning him anymore, since Sherlock had made it clear that he would never answer if it was his brother on the other end. Texts were a bit different. At least Mycroft could see that Sherlock had read whatever he sent, even if he didn’t reply. More often than not, the text would contain a note about meeting and a scheduled time for him to show up. That was what he expected this time but when he looked down, he found his brother wasn’t even bothering with a meeting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>[Swimming with the goldfish again? Our chat must have reenergized your search for a partner. I’m surprised it took this long but I’m glad you’re finally getting on with it. I do hope you run your choice by me before you commit. Would hate for you to get involved with someone who’s already been claimed.] </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least he wasn’t asking about the reason for Sherlock’s entrance. Mycroft just assumed Sherlock had thought about their conversation and that he had gone down to records to find a partner of his own; one that his older brother hadn’t pushed onto him. It was a logical conclusion and as long as he didn’t do anything to suggest it was wrong, they would have time to get on with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably best to start at the site. We’ll need flashlights of course. Otherwise we’ll be swimming in the dark.” John commented. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock found he didn’t much mind the idea of being in the dark with John. “There’s been enough time that we won’t need to worry about the authorities being there. Once they’ve come to the conclusion that there’s no one else to arrest, they’ll have lost interest.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a frantic energy about Sherlock. This was a proper case. While it wasn’t a homicide, it also wasn’t a retrieval mission. The stakes were different this time and he just had to find the parents, alive and well and return their children to them. God, he’d been so bored using his talents to trap people who were just trying to live their lives. It was part of the reason he’d started spending his spare time in the lab. If he could create a synthesized drug that a sentinel could take whenever they were zoning, he could eliminate the need for guides at all. He knew not all sentinels would be willing to take it but if the vast majority did, it would mean the need for guides would decrease and people could actually choose their future. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, none of his attempts had proved fruitful and while he had never seen the need for a guide, there was something about John that pulled him in. He would gladly drown in the other man’s presence. Just being around him was addictive and Sherlock found himself not wanting to part the longer they spent time together. A night was one thing but days with John present in his life, in his flat, in his bed. It was like Sherlock was a cat that got the cream, his inner feline purring with contentment at having John for himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, he didn’t really have John all for himself. The other man had been rather distant since their encounter weeks ago where Sherlock had made an observation that seemed obvious to him but was apparently the wrong one to bring to John’s attention. They were just two people with a similar goal in mind now. Standing a foot apart in an elevator, making their way down to the lobby of Sherlock’s building. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly the distance between them seemed too large and Sherlock couldn’t breath. He looked over at John and found the other man looking just as intensely back at him. In the span of a second, Sherlock was crowding him against the wall of the elevator, pressing their lips together in a heated kiss. Another second and John was responding in kind, pressing himself against the other man as he opened his mouth to lick at the seam of Sherlocks. Taking the cue, Sherlock let his own tongue dance across John’s as they continued to kiss and grind against one another. Too soon the elevator stopped and reluctantly, Sherlock pulled back to catch his breath. John was breathing heavily, looking at him with eyes full of lust, trying to get himself back in order,  “Later.” he whispered just before the doors opened to the lobby. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Salt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Investigation</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Had a bit of a writers block. This chapter was a labor and I rewrote it three times before finally giving up. So behold, my amalgamation of bullshit.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first thing that hit him was the wanton destruction of the place. Everything had been tossed to the ground and trampled over as the crowds of people stampeded in an attempt to escape capture. This was his home and it was now in ruin. There was nothing left but scattered debris. All the happiness and safety of the area had been stripped away in the middle of the night, leaving only hopelessness in it's wake. He could feel the dull ache in his chest that reminded him this would never again be a place he would come to, that that life was over now and he had to move on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it still didn't stop the hurt and the loss he felt as he looked out over the dark, dank tunnel he had once called his haven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Sherlock’s voice broke through the sharp pain John was feeling in his chest at seeing his home of the past three years in such disarray. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing the lump in his throat, John glanced at Sherlock and gave a small nod, “Yes, yes. Of course. I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock was certain that wasn’t the case but he kept his mouth shut so as no to damage John’s pride. He knew how difficult it was to see the dredges of one's life. So instead of asking how he was feeling and delving into messy emotions, he turned his attention to why they were here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were Isabella and Daniel's parents?” He asked, the beam of the flashlight trailing over the tattered remains of tents. “Which tent was theirs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The distraction seemed to help and John was waving his own light in various directions, trying to orient himself in the dark. “It all looks so different. Like a ghost town.” he murmured, finally stopping on an area to the north. “They were up there against the far wall.” He stepped over the remains of what appeared to be a loaf of bread and headed in that direction, Sherlock following after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long did you live here?” Sherlock asked as they made their way around the debris. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The longest I’ve lived in a camp,” John admitted, “Three years. I suppose we were lucky to have lasted that long. Before this, I stayed with a smaller group for about ten months in a dilapidated building.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worse than where we used to meet?” Sherlock smirked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I liked where we used to meet,” John surprised him, “I thought it was cozy and comfortable, like what a proper home is supposed to be like.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped walking, the beam from his flashlight illuminating a stuffed animal that was now covered in mud. “This is them.” he announced, “that’s Daniels bear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Sherlock went to work, examining the ground around the destroyed hut. He took note of the variety of shoe prints and the different sizes, mentally doing the calculations of the owners height. It seemed several people had trudged past but none of them seemed to fit John’s description yet. Stepping through the doorway, he looked about the remains. The hut was a single large room where a bed was made up of a mass of blankets on one side. There was a chest on the other side and upon closer examination, it held clothes for the entire family as well as a few trinkets that obviously held sentimental value for the owners. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did their parents regularly enter the dwelling with their shoes on?” he asked, noticing the floor was for the most part, clean of marks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were one of the few families that had a floor, so I imagine it was a point of pride not to get it dirty.” John said, looking down at the distinct shoe marks. “One set.” he commented.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock nodded, “Could be one of the retrievers but it seems unlikely. You said the parents were away from the home when the chaos broke out, likely trying to lead the culprits as far from their children as possible?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I found Isabella and Daniel at one of the nearest tunnels, so I figure they would have tried to lead them to the other side of the compound.” John said, light following the trail of mud around the room. “What makes you think it’s unlikely to have been a retriever?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock followed the trail around the room, eyes flying over every little detail as he spoke. “The owners height and weight is consistent with that of the father. If it had happened during the raid, the marks would be messier, hurried, but these are defined, as if whoever left them was taking their time. A retriever wouldn’t waste time, they would pop their head in and out of the door before continuing on. So it had to be someone who wanted to spend time here. The areas that are messiest point to someone looking for someone, you can see over by the chest for example. They were trying to find something and spent the longest time in that location.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John walked over to the chest, knelt down and lifted the lid, “maybe they thought someone was hiding inside?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“With the whole compound going crazy in the dark?” Sherlock gave him a rather pointed look and John frowned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, why else would someone be here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If it was the father. It’s likely he came back to retrieve the small amount of items being stored here. Seeing as there appears to be a fair amount of clothing still inside, I can’t be sure.” Sherlock admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But John wasn’t listening, he was staring at a napkin with a drawing on it that was resting inside the chest. His face had gone momentarily pale at the sight and Sherlock came to look over his shoulder to see what it was that had stunned him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He came back to leave a clue as to where they are.” John said softly, picking up the napkin. “He probably left this as a way to communicate with the kids where he was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And where is that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Another bolt hole. A temporary one that a few guides know about.” John explained, “They drew a salt shaker.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what that was.” Sherlock scoffed, “It looked like some sort of weird mushroom to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s a salt shaker. It’s a reference to a restaurant and the salt shaker is the emblem the owner uses on the sign.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s rather convenient,” Sherlock murmured, “Don’t you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John looked up at Sherlock through a narrow glare,  “It’s the best lead we have.” he pointed out, standing up with the napkin and putting it into his pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock let out a huff of air and nodded. “So this restaurant is the next step.” he gestured back towards the door with his flashlight, “Shall we then?” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Boss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Discovered</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It wasn’t in fact a restaurant that Sherlock found himself in. It seemed that the salt shaker was only a signal of the area that the bolt hole was located in. When they arrived, John had held out a hand to prevent him from heading in, quickly telling him that they weren’t actually going into the restaurant. Instead, he was directed across the street and towards a smaller cafe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they got inside, John looked around before turning to whisper to Sherlock that he should probably take a seat at one of the tables and just wait. It was obvious that he had unnerved the proprietor of the cafe, the side eyes he was receiving were full of worry and speculation. It was likely due to his status as a sentinel, most people became apprehensive around him for that reason. So he took a seat at one of the tables while John went to talk to the man behind the counter. They exchanged quick words and after a glance in Sherlock’s direction, the man led John into the back. While he was gone, a woman took over at the front of the shop. Not sure what to do with himself, Sherlock decided that he would order something to drink. It was likely that if the parents could be found at this establishment, they would need some convincing to trust someone in his position. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Latte ordered, Sherlock brought it back to the small table and made himself comfortable. He pulled out his phone to check for any messages, then began to browse through the news. Vaguely he wondered how Mrs. Hudson was making out with the three children that had suddenly been thrust upon her. He wasn’t at all worried that she wouldn’t be able to handle it. If anyone was able to look after another human being, it was definitely his spitfire of a neighbor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking, he picked up his drink and sipped the foamy beverage. Being out, solving a mystery with John was bringing him more pleasure then he would have expected. He had never before cared for someone to be present when he was working but with John it seemed different. He was able to focus better and whenever he made a deduction, John would give him a look of amazement. It had been one thing to hear the adulation from the other man’s mouth when he explained some of his previous cases during their downtime from sex but to see his face; it added a wonderful sensation in his chest, like it was expanding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still focused on that look when his phone rang. Looking down at the number, he frowned. Of course Mycroft would choose now to interrupt him and make some outrageous demands. Perhaps he had finally clued in that Sherlock hadn’t been to the tower to select a partner at all, perhaps he was finally suspicious. In all honesty, Sherlock had expected this call a lot sooner but had hoped to at least have one of the children returned to their parents before he was forced to speak with his brother again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing for it, he accepted the call and placed it against his ear. “Hello,</span>
  <em>
    <span> boss</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” His words were laced with sarcasm, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The exasperation from his brother was so palpable that he could hear it through the receiver, “What are you playing at Sherlock?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll have to be more specific.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know about the files that you asked Miss. Hooper to retrieve for you. I know that you’re looking into the raid from the other night and that you’re not just browsing the new list of recruits. So what are you up to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock momentarily felt sorry that Molly had to put up with his overbearing brother. She didn’t deserve to be talked down to or to be yelled at by someone who barely interacted with the people he ruled over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you mean,” he drawled, “I just wanted to see the numbers, is all. I know Sebastian was involved and his numbers have been slipping lately. So I was merely taking an interest in his tactics and comparing the data.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t play coy with me,” Mycroft snapped, “First your little experiment, then you access the files on the most recent guides rounded up, and now you’re traipsing around London with a man who’s been missing for the past six years.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s heart seemed to skip a beat at the mention of John and his eyes traveled through the window of the cafe to the street where there was a cctv camera. Damn it. He should have known better. Of course Mycroft was grossly misusing his authority to spy on him. He’d probably been suspicious from the start and thought that he could trick Sherlock into continuing to think he hadn’t caught on, thereby giving himself the advantage. How could he have been so stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about. The man I’m with merely asked for my assistance in locating his dog. I met him this morning on a walk and I so graciously offered my help.” Sherlock said, trying to outthink his brother. There was still a chance he would believe Sherlock didn’t know who John was and he could buy them a bit more time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must think so little of me.” Mycroft chastised him, “I’m not as obtuse as you believe Sherlock. I know who he is and what he is, so I suggest you stop spouting rubbish and do your duty. You will bring Doctor Watson to Sentinel Hill within the next hour or I will have a team sent out to collect you both. I leave the decision entirely in your hands.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The call ended after that and Sherlock couldn’t help glaring down at his half finished latte. He’d been far too careless and distracted as of late. He should have known better, been smarter. Now he was expected to hand John in or risk the repercussions. But what would those repercussions be? He knew Mycroft knew about his work and the experimental drug he was trying to create to synthesize a guides ability. Did he already know where the new location was? It wouldn’t take his brother much time to dig through his finances and put the pieces together, even if Sherlock had been careful to only pay the rent with cash and not to have any of the utilities in his name. His brother had far too many resources at his disposal and if he had the inkling to investigate, he would uncover the truth, it was only a matter of time. Was John Watson worth that risk? One guide for the sake of millions?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was at that moment that the man in question materialized at his side, waving a hand in front of Sherlock’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, anyone home?” he asked, a smile on his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It appeared he had good news. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were here?” Sherlock asked, shaking off his stupor and looking up at the other man, tracing his features with his eyes. He didn’t know if he could handle turning John over. After everything they had been through and everything they had shared. It seemed like the ultimate betrayal to even be thinking of it. But where could they go? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep.” John slid into the seat across from him and reached over to pick up the latte. He took a swig of it, then returned it to its place in front of Sherlock, “I was right about the napkin.” that bit of knowledge seemed to make his smile even larger and Sherlock couldn’t help the curl that came to his lips in return. “They’ve been staying somewhere else, another camp or something...I’m not sure on the details but they’re safe. Peter, that’s the father, he said he’s been jumping between this location and another, keeping an eye out hoping the kids would get the message if they went back looking for them. It was lucky we showed up when we did, he was about to call it for the day and check the other location. Now we just have to sort out how to get the kids here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Liam's parents?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John’s smile got impossibly bigger, “That’s the best part. Liam's dad is with them. Showed up this morning after wandering around all night looking for me. So we can bring them all here and hand them over to their parents all at once.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock nodded. Then a thought occurred to him and he found the small smile he’d been wearing had melted away with the realization this wasn’t going to work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t bring them here,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John raised an eyebrow, “What? Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock dug around in his pocket, pulling out his wallet to retrieve his key card. He placed it on the table and slid it across to John. “Give this to Peter along with the location of the high rise and the floor number. I’ll message Mrs. Hudson and let her know to expect him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John continued to look quizzically at him, “what are you talking about Sherlock? We can go back to your flat and collect the kids. It would be safer for everyone that way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he could do was shake his head as he sat back in the chair. “We’ve been found out. The tower’s been tracking us and if we decide to go back to the flat, they’ll find the kids too. This may not be the safest way but it’s now the only way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John’s confusion and that intoxicating smile had fallen away and now he was more focused than before. He took the card from the table and turned it over in his hand. “So what about us?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the topic Sherlock had wished to avoid but John was more clever then people gave him credit for. He knew exactly what to ask to get Sherlock to admit what was really going on because after all, Sherlock would never be able to lie to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re expected at the tower.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Ugly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The boys return to Sentinel Hill to face the music.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I feel like this is going to end up being a two month challenge for me. Posting everyday has become nearly impossible with RL. However, I have not given up and am determined to see the prompts through, even if they aren't prompt themselves.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John has never been to the towers at Sentinel hill but he’s heard about them. Been threatened with them. Now as they approach the monumental structures of steel and glass, he thinks about how apt the descriptions are. These ugly monstrosities of captivity loom about the surrounding structures, leaving long dark shadows in their wake. It’s something out of a horror film and as they reach the courtyard, he finds there’s a pressure pushing against his chest. An overwhelming sense of dread and fear that emanates from one of the buildings. This is where children are brought and their dreams for the future destroyed. This prison masquerading as an institution for the betterment of the British people is despicable. It’s everything he’s been fighting against. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now he’s forced to walk through the doors if only to provide a long enough distraction to ensure the children escape the same fate with their parents' retrieval. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels bitter about the whole thing. It took ages to escape the authoritarian structure the first time. To fight back against his parents' wishes to cash in with their prize of a son. He feels bitter that his parents weren’t as caring as those who fight everyday to provide a future for their guide sensitive children. His own past catches up with him momentarily as he follows Sherlock mindlessly down the paths towards the center building. John had fought so hard all his life to avoid being sold off to the highest bidder, only to trust a man who was forced to bring him in like a criminal. And why is he a criminal? All he’s ever done is try and live a normal life, one where he can make his own decisions and not be tied down to someone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows deep down that Sherlock regrets this. That he feels terrible this is how things have turned out. The honesty is there in his eyes, even if he doesn’t deem to show it. It’s that small spark that allows him to forgive the other man for his part in this charade. Maybe he’ll get lucky. Maybe what Sherlock talked about the last night they spent together could become a reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he’s forced to make a choice, he finds the idea of binding himself to the other man the more appealing option. He can see a life with Sherlock, the two of them secretly trying to rescue other guides so they don’t have to face the same fate. Working undercover somehow to find a way to help the resistance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hallway they’re walking down reminds him of a hospital; sterile. The grey color of the walls which are meant to provide a sense of peace to a sentinel, who otherwise would be experiencing a jumble of sensory overload, only accentuates the bleakness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They reach the end of the corridor and Sherlock pushes through a door to reveal an office. It’s much the same as the rest of the building, only this time there is a woman sitting behind the desk. She raises her head to look at them and after a nod from Sherlock, presses a button. Sherlock wastes no time, heading for the doors just off to the side and behind her. The large wooden double doors are most likely meant to instill fear on those who are about to enter the room beyond. John finds himself standing up straighter in response, posture that of a soldier about to go to war. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, he marches through after Sherlock into the enormous room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is a man directly opposite them, staring out the large floor to ceiling windows, his hands clasped behind his back as he looks out over the courtyard below. John gets the feeling this is the man in charge, the one that won’t take no for an answer and who has forced Sherlock to hand John over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He immediately dislikes him. And when the man turns to face him, his dislike only increases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Sherlock. You may go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s come to stand beside John now, a constant presence of support. He stays where he is even after the dismissal, eyes focused on the man in charge as if to challenge him. He’s not going anywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grateful for the support, John keeps his focus on the man who plans to sign his life away. He gives an exaggerated sigh, stepping around the desk to come and stand before them, “Fine.” he drawls as if he can’t be bothered to tell Sherlock to piss off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His attention is now directed to John and a smile takes over his face, one that looks almost shark-like in its intensity. “Doctor Watson. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You’ve been a bit of a thorn in my side for a very long time. Six years to be exact.” He leans against the desk behind him, crossing his arms in judgement, as if he expects John to apologize for this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But now you’re here,” He gives a tight smile, “And I have someone who is very excited to see you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John frowns, his eyebrows drawing together as he tries to decipher the meaning of what the man is saying. He looks at his face for any clues and is rewarded when the man’s eyes focus on something over his shoulder. Turning to look back at the door, John sees them open to reveal someone he’s tried ages to forget. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Johnny.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Argument</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>John's fate is decided</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>If John thought the buildings of Sentinel Hill were ugly, they are nothing compared to how he feels about the man that had entered the office only minutes behind himself and Sherlock. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in over six years and one he hoped never to hear ever again. It sends shivers down his spine and makes his blood run cold, as memories flash through his mind. For a moment, he can’t breath. He feels like he’s outside of his body, watching this whole mess unfold before him. It has to be a dream because he can’t come to terms with this nightmare of a situation being real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This shift is enough to capture Sherlock’s attention and he gives John a quizzical look, asking if he’s alright without saying any words. John meets his eyes, still feeling like the floor has dropped out from under him but the ever changing green of Sherlock’s eyes calms him down. His lungs fill with air once more and he lets out the breath that he’s been holding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning, he looks in the direction of the door and is finally able to find his voice. “Jim.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sing-song quality of the voice floats over them as the sharply dressed individual makes his way into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Been awhile, Johnny.” he grins, looking over the man, up and down as if he’s appraising a piece of art instead of a human being. “You’re looking well.” he reaches out a hand and touches the fabric of John’s new jumper, the one Sherlock had gifted him two days ago. He wants to flinch back but he knows that the moment he does this, Jim will have won. He wants to scare John, to break him and punish him but John won’t give him the satisfaction. He stands resolute and stares back at Jim with a hard gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This only makes Jim’s grin larger and he lets go of the knitted jumper to turn his gaze on Sherlock. He does his once over, hands shoved into his pockets and head tilted to the side. “Oh, I see.” he nods as if he’s been let in on a little joke that no one else knows. His eyes return to John’s face and he makes no further comment on what he’s seen in Sherlock, “You’ve been rather resourceful all these years,” he continued, “Keeping underground so no one can find you. Never staying in one place too long. You even found a way to avoid the teams from Sentinel Hill after I had them searching for you. Isn’t that right Mr. Holmes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John momentarily glances in Sherlock’s direction, mouth slightly open as he stares at him. He can’t believe Sherlock was sent to find him. But before he can accuse him of this treachery the man that demanded he be here speaks, “My teams are not your property, Moriarty. We looked into the case and a team was sent to look, when they couldn’t locate Dr. Watson within the first six months, it seemed likely they never would. The case was cold and you could give us no new information or leads. So it was shelved until our cctv footage picked him up this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, wasn’t that a stroke of luck and we have your brother to thank for that.” Jim’s hands came out of his pockets and he clapped them together, “Bravo, Mr. Holmes, bravo.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your brother?” John repeated the word, his eyes flashing between the two men. Now that he was faced with the truth, he found he could see the similarities between the two. The stern face, the high cheekbones and the way he held himself, it was all there in his brother's stance. “You never told me you had a brother.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock sighs out a heavy breath, “Not exactly information I wish to share with the rest of the world. Being related to Mycroft is enough of a burden as it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His brother stands up straighter now and rolls his eyes at the comment. “As I was saying over the phone. My brother had nothing to do with the discovery of Dr. Watson, only his eventual retrieval.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes,” Jim beams at Sherlock, “You’re on the retrieval team. I’ve read all about you. You were a top sentinel agent but you had to be benched because of how often you were zoning out in the middle of cases. It was almost obsessive the way you would lock yourself away for days, forgetting the rest of the world existed. That’s why in your last case, the prime suspect got away with it. You sat on the information too long, locked in your own little world. By the time they found you and got a guide to calm you down, he’d killed again. How does it feel knowing you could have prevented the death if you’d just listened to everyone else and gotten yourself a guide?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s jaw tightens noticeably as John looks over at him. It makes sense with everything he knows about the man standing beside him and he finds himself wondering exactly that. Why had Sherlock not done the obvious and found a guide to work with? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone clinging onto me? Tedious.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim breaks out into laughter at the comment, “Oh yes! They are tedious aren’t they. Always needing to be looked after, controlled and kept in line.” his wicked grin turns towards John and once again the feeling of fear spreads throughout his entire body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glorified babysitting. I don’t have time for that. It would just slow me down.” Sherlock continues with a nod, “But why are you interested in John? You’re not a sentinel, you don’t need a guide and you’ve no family who would require the services of one. So why did you waste The Hills resources searching for one guide?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, spotted that, did you.” Jim looks over his shoulder at Mycroft, “He’s good.” He turns his attention back to the younger Holmes. “Let’s see if he can puzzle out the rest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s eyes brighten with the challenge and he immediately let’s them travel up and over the man in front of him, cataloging everything about him in the seconds that pass. Jim looks back just as intensely and it’s as if they’re locked in a battle of wits, waiting for the other to take the first hit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But John decides to put an end to this little game. He crosses his arms over his chest, feeling defensive as he asks, “So where is he? I assume you called him as soon as you found out where I was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim’s attention is broken and he turns it to John, “Yep.” the last letter in the word pops as he pronounces it, like a death sentence, a bullet through John. That word brings with it it’s own dread and John tries his best to calm his racing heart. “Called as soon as that one-” he points to Mycroft, “called me. As you can imagine, he’s over the moon to hear that we’ve found you. No one else even comes close to the renowned John Watson. You must have really made an impression on him for me to spend so much time and effort. I suppose I’m not surprised though, you always were a bit of an overachiever. Not many of you out there and when we got our hands on you, it was like Christmas.” he does a bit of a jump with the last word as if in celebration, “Oh Johnny, you have no idea the effort I’ve had to put in to make sure you’re kept off the Hill’s retaining list.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock’s eyes widen at the mention of the retaining list. Only guides of a certain strength are added to that list and usually when they first come into their gift. The list is something Sherlock’s only seen a few times, each in the presence of a nations leader or someone of equal importance. The guides on the retaining list are so important, so powerful, that they’re kept as bargaining chips in world negotiations. To learn that John should have been on that list from the beginning is mind boggling and he can’t rationalize it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re a level five.” He means for it to be a question but as soon as the words are out, he knows it’s a statement. The look John gives him only confirms the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft even seems surprised by the news, “You never mentioned his ability level.” His interest in what’s happening has finally returned, “Level fives are incredibly rare and if Watson is indeed of that level, he should be retained by the British Government. We can’t just throw our level fives at just anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not.” Jim tells him as he comes to stand within inches of John. “You’re giving him to me because I bought and paid for him. I own him. Not the British government.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No one owns me.” John snarls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, maybe not physically, Johnny-boy.” Jim says, “But that’s easily fixed. No. I own you because your poor excuse for parents sold you to me. I’m surprised it took them so long to part with you given your abilities but then I suppose they were just holding out for the best offer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he’s not bound to a sentinel then he’s not been claimed.” Mycroft explains, quoting from the guidebook every citizen has to read at one point in their life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim waves a hand as if it’s no concern to him, his eyes never leaving John’s face, “We both know he’s been claimed. Maybe the bonds not there yet but it would have been had he not run away from home the day it was going to happen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t have much of a choice,” John snaps back, “If I didn’t leave then he would have owned me forever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just so,” Jim’s cheery attitude is starting to sit ill with everyone in the room, “And when Moran gets here, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. It’s fate Johnny, better get used to it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock makes a move finally and places himself in front of John so Moriarty has to take a step back. “If John doesn’t want to bond, then he doesn’t have to. It should be his choice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This makes Jim break out into a fit of laughter and it takes a few seconds for him to calm down enough to speak again, “His choice. A sentinel talking about a guide’s choice. Oh, that’s rich.” More laughter follows and Sherlock can feel his face flush red with anger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holmes, we both know he doesn’t have a choice. He was bought and paid for and now he needs to be delivered.” Jim explains, “And before you talk to me about his importance, you should remind yourselves who screwed up and let him slip through their fingers the first time. Can’t have someone in charge who can’t deliver on promises.” he aims the comment at Mycroft and the eldest Holmes stiffens in the knowledge that Moriarty is right. “So here’s what’s going to happen. Since you found him for me, I’m going to be generous and keep his existence to myself. You’d both do well to follow my lead on that if you want to keep your jobs because the moment anyone finds out that a level five guide was overlooked by the government, is the moment all your benefactors decide to put their trust in someone else. Someone like me.” he straightens his tie, knowing that in the room, he’s the one that holds all the cards. “So consider my silence a gesture of thanks.” He makes a gesture for Sherlock to move out of the way and when the younger Holmes doesn’t, he sighs, “Really? Are you really going to contest this? Haven’t you had enough fun with him already?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock..” Mycroft is pleading with his brother to step aside but there is another spark of surprise in his eyes that tells the younger they will be sharing words about this particular revelation later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes every ounce of strength he has for Sherlock to step to the side and let Moriarty call in his men to come and collect John. They are none too gentle with the shorter man as they escort him from the room, leaving only the Holmes brothers and Moriarty in the office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’d best be off. It’s been fun boys.” Jim practically sings out. With one last wave, he's following his men out of the office and away from the Holmes brothers. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Trinket</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A bit of John's past is revealed.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Once upon a time John Watson fancied himself in love. It was a bit of a whirlwind, swept up in adventure and danger. A world where he was the superhero and together with his partner, they were saving those who couldn’t save themselves. Perhaps it was the hype of the whole thing and the adrenaline that was coursing through his veins with each successful mission but John Watson, fancied himself in love with Sebastian Moran. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a few years younger then the colonel when they first met and still wet behind the ears when it came to the military but Moran didn’t seem to mind. He nurtured John’s curiosity in everything, guns, hand to hand combat, medical rescue. Anything John wanted to do, Sebastian found a way for him to do it. Without Moran, John never would have been the person he was today. Without him, he wouldn’t be a doctor, a freedom fighter or part of the resistance, protecting other guides from the Hill. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never pushed John to do more then he wanted, shrugging it off whenever John asked why they hadn’t bonded the first night together. Sebastian had told him that there was no rush for either of them and that in time, when John was comfortable with the idea, they would visit it again. It still surprised John every time he saw Moriarty and he asked if Seb had popped the question yet. It was the known outcome of their arrangement. Jim had paid double what John’s parents had asked for him and informed John that he was going to be the guide to a real hero. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had made John sick to his stomach to be sold off like a piece of property to someone he hadn’t even met but it was better to be bonded to a hero then kept as a pet by some rich snob in the capital. When they were first introduced, John had been more than a little intimidated by Sebastian. He was taller, stronger, and rougher than what he would have imagined a hero to be but when he opened his mouth to introduce himself, John could see there was a kindness underneath it all. Only when asked why they hadn’t bonded that night, did his kindness cement itself in the words, “I’m not forcing anyone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What followed after was years where he was in training, under the watchful eyes of the colonel and his teams. Every night after training, he would come back to Sebastian’s tent and regale him of what happened during the day. They would have drinks together and play cards and talk about everything and nothing. It was the most content John could ever remember being and all the while, Sebastian never pushed him for more then he was willing to give. Sure he trained him hard when he was around but that was a different kind of pressure; it was one that John craved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was after he hadn’t seen Moran for two months, that John got it in his head that he wanted to study medicine. He’d seen some of the casualties of the war they were fighting and wanted to help. So when Sebastian returned, John brought up the idea. At first Sebastian had laughed but it was good hearted as he told John the image of this scrappy kid in the middle of a battle sewing someone up amused him. John had felt put out but by the end of the discussion, Sebastian had promised he would find someone who could train John if that’s what he really wanted. To have his dreams realized by the very person who was supposedly to take them away from him brought John endless amounts of joy. He couldn’t believe he had lucked out with a sentinel like Moran and he became more determined to prove his worth to the older man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>True to his word, Sebastian found someone to train John to be a doctor. It wasn’t a traditional education but John didn’t care. He spent his nights pouring over medical books and his days on the field helping James Sholto patch up wounds. He did this for a year before the doctor let him take over and for once in his life, John found himself useful outside of his ability. He wasn’t just helping one person, he was helping everything. It gave him a sense of purpose that he’d been looking for for far too long and Sebastian had helped him find it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>From then on, he asked to go on missions, begging to be by Moran’s side but it would take another three months before Moriarty would pull a few strings to get him to accept that John was ready. The night that Moran called him into his tent, it was his last away day before a new mission. They’d spent four days together, in usual companionship, talking about everything that had happened on the previous missions and what John was up to in his training. But this night it was different. John could feel there was a shift in the air between them, a slight tension that hadn’t been there before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were no cards or bottles of beer on the table when he entered the tent. There was only Sebastian looking over some papers like this was all business to him. He looked up when John entered and set the file down, turning towards the smaller man with a grim look. “I tried to put it off but it seems you’re a determined little nut job.” he said, digging into his pocket, “Jim’s been pleading your case for a week now. He seems to think you’re ready and while I’m not sure this isn’t rushing it, he’s the boss.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped forward and took one of John’s hands in his, turning it over to reveal the palm. Then he placed a set of dog tags on it. “Not official or anything given we’re not a legal organization. So it’s more a trinket than army issued but I figure you deserved something to signify a graduation of sorts.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John had looked down at the tags where his name had been pressed into the metal plates. He’d never felt so proud of himself before. It felt like he’d accomplished the impossible, all these years and now he was going out to be by Sebastian’s side, to watch his back like a proper guide. He’d always hated the idea of being trapped by someone else, to have his whole life dictated but that wasn’t the case with Sebastian. With him it was gradual and however slow John needed it to be. With Sebastian it had been easy to fall in love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was the night that John pushed for more and they’d ended up in bed together. But even so, Sebastian never took more then John was willing to give. He never pressed for a permanent bond with him and John could tell the other man was waiting for him to be fully committed to the lifestyle before asking. Sebastian had treated him like a human being and helped him to achieve his dreams and John loved him for it, more than he had ever loved anyone before. He’d been certain that this was the life he wanted to live for the rest of his days. Side by side with Moran, fighting to free guides that were force bonded and getting them to safety where they could choose how to live the rest of their lives. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If asked, he would have agreed to bond then and there. Thankfully, Sebastian didn’t ask and John was able to later escape the lie that had been so expertly woven around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he was standing in front of the door that would lead him back to that life, back to the man who had used his love to control him. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Delusion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sherlock and Mycroft have a revealing chat</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And so begins my journey into March. XD</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They had been gone for five minutes, the door to Mycroft’s office slammed shut behind them, leaving the two brothers to stare after. There was a tension in the air, making it almost visible around them as Sherlock looked towards his brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell?” he snapped, “You called me back to bring John to that man?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know what Moriarty was planning to do with Dr. Watson. I just knew he had an interest in him and that interest coincided with some very important people. People who fund our government and the very institution that protects it. I couldn’t very well ignore it forever.” Mycroft replied, “How was I to know he was a level five guide? We had nothing on him besides what Moriarty deemed necessary to give us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock stomped towards the door but before he could reach it, his brother spoke. “What exactly do you plan on doing? Racing after them and demanding Watson’s freedom? You heard him, Dr. Watson has been promised to a sentinel. There’s nothing we can do but stand back and let it happen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Sherlock said, turning to face his brother, “You can stand back and let it happen because you value your worthless pride over the life of a British citizen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re going to let them take him and all in some vain attempt to hide your incompetence. But I don’t have to stand by and allow that cretin to take him away against his will to be force bonded.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft gave him a strange look then rolled his eyes, “Oh god, tell me you aren’t attached to the good doctor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Attached? No. Of course not,” He knew he’d been too defensive when his brother’s eyes widened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been sleeping with him.” Mycroft stepped closer, giving the air around Sherlock a quick sniff, “I should have known. All this time I’ve been putting in effort to find you a guide, pulling strings to ensure you have the absolute best available, and you’ve been gallivanting with a rogue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John is not a rogue.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Any guide that’s not on the registry is a rogue.” Mycroft reminded him with a sigh, “And while I would have liked to have kept him for the more deserving sentinels, sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the good of the group.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sacrifice?” Sherlock wanted to pull out his hair at the suggestion that he just allow John to lose everything for the good of the nation. “He’s not some sacrifice on your bloody altar. He’s a human being and he deserves the right to choose what he wants to do with his life.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sherlock, he’s going to be bonded. There’s nothing more to say.” Mycroft said softly, “You would do best to move on with your life and concentrate on something more productive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock slammed his fist against the nearest wall, wishing it was instead Mycroft’s face. “I’m not giving him up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have little choice in the matter. If you had wanted to bond with him, you should have done it.” Mycroft said as if it were that simple. “You missed your chance with Dr. Watson but I can offer you an array of perfectly good substitutes. Several of them, while not as high in rank, are skilled enough to take his place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want anyone else.” Sherlock growled, “There is no one else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And whyever not? I haven’t seen you attempt to get to know any of the guides I’ve put in front of you. What makes Dr. Watson, so special?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not like the rest of your guides. His presence doesn’t annoy me.” Sherlock explained, “John can keep up with me and the work, he’s clever, quick on his feet and has the strength of a thousand of your teams. No one else comes close to comparing with him, that’s why I won’t let you write him off.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mycroft let out an annoyed huff of air as he walked around to the front of his desk and sat on the edge, “I’m not writing him off, Sherlock. I’m merely stating the facts. John Watson is the property of Jim Moriarty. He was purchased at a young age and cultivated into the man he is today. His future was already set out, it’s just John took a detour and ended up in your orbit. The best thing you can do now is to forget he ever existed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock looked daggers at his brother, “I can’t. I’ve tried.” his voice was dangerously low, like a bomb waiting to go off, “John Watson is the only thing that makes sense in this world. He’s the only thing that’s right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s just a casualty of war, Sherlock. Another poor guide that chose to hide rather then come forward.” Mycroft tutted, crossing his arms over his chest. He’d never seen his brother so emotional over another human being. It was rather curious and he found himself asking, “why is it, after countless years of claiming you don’t need a guide, that you’re suddenly so fixated on one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grief of possibly losing John was overwhelming to Sherlock and he found himself unable to keep it in anymore, “Because I love him!”  he finally blurted out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love?” Mycroft scoffed, “Love is a delusion. It’s nothing more than a fairy tale told by those too weak to see the bigger picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock clenched his hands into fists, “You say that only because you’ve never felt it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that is why I’m the smarter brother,” Mycroft reminded him, “You allow your emotions to control you and that’s why you’re never satisfied.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was satisfied!” Sherlock shouted, “I was more than satisfied because I had John in my life. And now he’s been carted off because you think it’s easier to sweep his existence under the rug then actually fight for him. Well, I’m not going to ignore him.” he strode back towards the doors, purpose in his strides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Again I ask you, what are you planning to do Sherlock?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking over his shoulder one last time at his brother, Sherlock lifted his hand to the door knob, “I plan on saving him.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Property</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jim delivers to his favorite right hand man, exactly what he wants.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Sebby! I’ve got your prize.” Jim called out as he opened the door to a fancy hotel room. John was pushed through roughly by his jailers and herded to the far side of what appeared to be a sitting room. Jim looked around at his surroundings casually, waving at the guards that held John stationary. “You two, leave.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t need to be told twice. With a grunt and a nod, they released their grip on John’s arms and left the hotel room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Relax Johnny,” Jim came over to him, reaching out to pat John on the shoulder. His instincts kicked in immediately and John stepped back to avoid the touch. “Oh...skittish are we?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not skittish,” John growled, “I just don’t want to be touched by the likes of you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The likes of me,” Jim gave him the flash of a hurt look, unable to keep his face from smiling, “The likes of me are what got you away from those awful parents of yours.” he reminded John, “I’m the reason you’re a doctor. A soldier. A fighter. You should be grateful, I made you who you are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John glared at him. It was the truth. Without Jim Moriarty it was likely John would have been sold off to some rich snob who didn’t care a lick for his comfort. But that didn’t make what was happening now, okay. “You may have made me but it doesn’t mean you own me. I’m not your property.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This only served to amuse Jim, “You’re right. You’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>property.” he swung around and yelled again, “Moran! Get your ass out here and deal with this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of movement could be heard from the other room and a minute later Sebastian was coming through the door that led to the bedroom. He had a towel in his hand and was dabbing it against his face, a sign that he had just finished shaving. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn it, Jim. Can’t you give a bloke a minute to finish prettying himself up for his date.” Sebastian chastised but immediately his eyes were trained on John and any further discussion was tabled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t changed in six years. Sure his hair had gone a silver shade and there were a few more scars on his face but he was still the man that John had fallen hard for all those years ago. The only difference was, John could see who him for what he really was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sebastian.” John spoke the name he hadn’t said in ages and stood up straighter as he addressed him. The shift in his demeanor was enough to break Moran out of his daze and he gave John a sly grin as he crossed the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you look at that.” Sebastian said, coming to stand beside Moriarty. “Here I was expecting you to come back empty handed with some knockoff version but you finally managed to catch the real thing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Told you I had the connections to find your little pet.” Jim grinned back, “You owe me a very large favor for this and don’t think I won’t collect. I've already started coming up with a list of things I need sorted.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah.” Sebastian waved it off as if the requests of a madman were nothing more than a list of groceries he was expected to pick up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I should leave you two to get reacquainted.” Jim shoved his hands into his pockets looking gleeful as he made his way to the door, “And Sebastian, no waiting this time. It’s what allowed him to screw everything up and I won’t be wasting anymore time and money on Johnny-boy. He’s your responsibility and I expect you to set things right pronto.” The order was clear enough in his eyes that John didn’t need him to say the words. He knew that Jim was talking about the first time he and Sebastian were supposed to bond and how John had managed to find a way to escape. He didn’t imagine he would be so lucky this time around, what with the added security and no time to plan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, Jim. I’ve got it handled.” Moran said, stepping closer to John. His gaze was once again trained on the man in front of him and even though Jim was leaving, he paid his boss no mind; he only had eyes for John. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they were alone, John stepped away from him, trying to put some distance between them via a sofa. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look good, John,” Sebastian said, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs opposite, “I like the grey in your hair. Makes you look more distinguished. Christ, it’s good to see you. I thought for sure Jim was pulling my leg when he said The Hill had spotted you. I never expected you to actually be ballsy enough to come back to London, to sit right in the heart of the mess but then, I always did underestimate you.” He reached under his shirt to pull something up over his head, then held it out for John. “Kept these for you. Knew you’d need them back one day.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not coming back.” was John’s immediate response. “Not ever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sebastian set the tags down on the coffee table in front of him before leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees, “Well, here’s the thing. Jim spent an awful lot of money on you. To him you were an investment and the thing about investments is, they have to pay out in the end.” he gave John a wolfish grin, “And we came to that end six years ago. I asked you if you wanted to bond and you said yes. That’s a verbal contract. So you see, it’s really your fault this whole mess happened. If you’d just followed through with your promise to become my guide, we could have avoided all this rushing about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John frowned, “I made that promise before I knew what was really going on. I never would have made it if I'd known the truth.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You say that you didn’t know what was going on but come on John, we both know you’re cleverer than that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John felt his blood boiling with anger but there was also something else behind it. Something that he hadn’t until now really focused on. Regret. Not regret about how things went down with Sebastian but regret that he hadn’t taken up Sherlock on his offer all those nights ago. If he had then this never would have happened; Moran wouldn’t have any power over him and John could continue the life he’d been getting used to with Sherlock. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You lied to me.” he repeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on Johnny, you must have seen it, you just didn’t want to believe it.” Sebastian told him, “Do you really think someone was going to come and pay that outrageous amount for a guide, just to let him walk free? People like that don’t exist and if they did, Jim Moriarty wouldn’t be one of them.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you were so patient and kind,” John heard himself say, “was that all a lie too?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sebastian stood up and rubbed his chin as he thought about the question. “Nah. I liked you from the start John. I knew you weren’t ready for the life we led, so I gave you enough time to train up. I wasn’t about to bond with a guide that couldn’t hold his own and the fact you wanted to be a doctor...let’s just say letting you do that made me look like a hero. You were so caught up in the fantasy of saving guides that you didn’t look at all the facts. Not because you didn’t see them but because you didn’t want to. And you know why that is?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s glare moved to the top of the couch and stood as still as he could as Sebastian crept closer to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you loved it.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why? Because I’m telling you the truth? Letting you know just how wrapped up in all that mess that you really were. Killing sentinels, </span>
  <em>
    <span>rescuing </span>
  </em>
  <span>guides. You were living for it. You loved the danger and the adrenaline rush. It was clear as day in the way you held yourself, in the way you talked, in the way you fucked. You’re meant to do this, Watson. You know you are and it’s killing you to fight it.  But I’m here now, so you don’t have to fight it anymore. You can just give in and I’ll make everything good again.” he was standing behind John now, his nose against the nape of his neck as he took in a deep breath. “All you have to do is let me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a small part of John that wanted to give in. A part of him that was so tired of hiding and just wanted to be taken care of. It was the same part that was leaning back against Sebastian now, allowing his head to fall to the side in offering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it..” Sebastian breathed against his neck, lips brushing the skin just below his ear as he continued to travel downward. “Just give in... there’s nothing left to worry about, I’ll look after you from now on.” He licked the skin between John’s neck and shoulder, hoping to set off the bonding frenzy. “You’re meant to be with me, John. You’re mi--” he abruptly jerked back as if he’d been stung and John’s foggy thoughts quickly cleared now that there was space between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell.” Sebastian took a step closer, eyes roaming as his senses went into overdrive. John could see his pupils dilating as he searched. He finally focused on John’s face again, more specifically his mouth. Before John could move away, Sebastian was crowding him against the back of the couch, his nose practically against the skin of John’s lips. He was sniffing, smelling for something and when he straightened up again, it was to glare down at John. “Are you fucking another sentinel?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s eyes widened. He was surprised that Moran had picked up on Sherlock’s scent but then he was a level five sentinel after all. It would have been more surprising that he did not pick up on the kiss he’d shared with Sherlock earlier that day in the elevator. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You little whore. After everything I did for you.” Moran moved away from him and began pacing back and forth. “You’re mine, John. You were meant to be mine all along. No one else is allowed to fucking touch you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not allowed to touch me.” John snarled back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m the only one allowed to touch you. You’re my property. I own you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And just like that any spell that Sebastian had over John fizzled out and he charged across the room, launching himself at the other man. His fist connected with Sebastian’s jaw, sending him back several steps from the shock. But before he could recover, John was hitting him again and again. There was no rhyme or reason to John’s punches, he just wanted to inflict as much pain as he could on the man in front of him. After several more hits, Sebastian was on the ground with John over top of him, dealing what he thought to be a knockout blow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He climbed back up to his feet, panting heavily, looking down at Moran’s bloody face. He had won. He had beat him and the door was just behind him. This was it. This was his chance to escape. John took two steps towards the door, his hand on the knob about to turn it and reveal his freedom. But before he could, he heard a laugh coming from behind him. All the hope he’d regained suddenly fled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well done.” There was a sound of Sebastian spitting blood on the floor and John turned to see him wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. “Still that spitfire I trained.” It took him a moment to get back up to his feet but when he did, he grinned at John, mouth still bloody. “Don’t worry though, I’m going to make sure you remember exactly who you belong to.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Greece</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The last time John saw Sebastian.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm still alive. I'm still doing this, even though it's March. So don't fret. I have not left it to die, even if the updates don't come everyday. Some words are just harder to wrestle with then others.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John remembers vividly the last time he was supposed to bond with Sebastian Moran. They’d just completed a very successful mission where they’d rescued six young guides from their unyielding captors. The entire team was celebrating the victory and Moran along with them. He’d swept John up off his feet and started to kiss him with more passion then John had thought him capable of. The joy was infectious and after engaging in a rather heated snogging session, Sebastian finally asked him if he wanted to bond. To say that John was over the moon would have been an understatement. He’d been waiting for this moment for years and now it had finally arrived, and on the back of a recent victory too. It felt like the perfect way to celebrate their triumph and John immediately agreed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Given the enormity of the success, the entire crew was given a week off as a reward. Usually, John would spend any time they were allowed off catching up on sleep, visiting the nearest village or just enjoying the company of his fellow operatives. This time, he was sticking close to Sebastian. Generally, a week off meant Jim and Sebastian would disappear, spending their time relocating those who had been liberated from their forced bonds. Since they planned to bond, Sebastian had requested that John come along with them. He said that while Jim was helping the guides settle, that he and John could enjoy their time off together in a more picturesque setting. It was as romantic as John had ever known Moran to be and once they’d received Jim’s approval, the group set off to Greece.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sebastian explained that the first few days they would need to help the guides get settled and that John should take the time to explore, relax and just generally prepare for their bonding. Booking into one of the fanciest hotels that he’d ever seen, John spent the time doing just that. He explored the city, checking out tourist destinations, knowing full well that if anyone stopped him he would be able to deal with them with his training. For the first time in his life, he felt safe to walk around in public alone. In the evenings when Jim and Sebastian weren’t working late, they’d join him for dinner or a night cap. It was as if John was living someone else’s life. He was a superhero, saving the lives of guides who couldn’t save themselves, and he was doing it with a man he was in love with. Maybe it had been naive to think that he could sustain that fiction but John was so swept up in it that he never once questioned things. He was living the high life, money, adventure, love. He had it all with Sebastian and the rest of the crew Jim had put together. For once in his life he truly felt like he belonged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which is probably why the deception hurt so much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the very night they had decided to bond. John had spent the whole day vibrating with excited energy. He had no idea what to expect from the experience but he was determined to be ready. Instead of going out touring around, he’d spent the entirety of the day lounging by the hotel pool and trying his best to relax. It was nice for once to be in a place where he didn’t sense distress among others and it had a calming effect on his mind. Maybe that was the reason Sebastian had put off their bonding so long; he wanted John to be at peace, outside a war zone, somewhere he didn’t have to worry about the rest of the world’s problems. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That evening had been just him and Sebastian, a candlelight dinner between them at one of the most expensive restaurants John had ever been too. It was outdoors, overlooking the sea with tiny twinkling lights strung up above them. There was a table cloth covering the table and exotic dishes being served for outrageous prices. Or at least, John assumed they were outrageous since the menu was incredibly tiny and there were no prices to be seen anywhere. He remembered making a joke about Sebastian trying to woo him when he was already purchased and the larger man breaking out in laughter from behind his scotch. It was perfect and John was unbelievably happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had just finished their dessert when Sebastian’s received a text from Jim. Had it not been for that text, John probably would have been trapped to this day, bonded to a man he didn’t really know anything about. As it was, he was still under the illusion that everything was wonderful and when Sebastian pulled out his wallet to pay, apologizing that they would have to cut things brief because Jim needed him, John did nothing but nod. The mission came first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They collected their coats and together made their way back to the hotel. At the foyer, they broke apart after a quick kiss, Sebastian telling him to head back to their room and get ready, that he would be back by John’s side in no time. They separated, Moran heading off to help Jim deal with something and John heading to their hotel room with plans of setting the mood in mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He spent nearly half an hour trying to make everything perfect, dimming the lights, drawing a bath for them both, calling to the front desk to have champagne delivered. It was coming on the forty minute mark when he decided he needed to fetch ice to keep everything cool and to keep the nervousness from taking full hold of him. John grabbed the plastic bucket provided by the hotel and making sure his room key was in his pocket, he left in search of an ice machine.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt almost like fate that he couldn’t locate one and ended up wandering the majority of the hotel in his search. It was when he had made it to the backside of the hotel, looking for someone to help him that he was first hit with a wave of distress and fear. It was the first time since his arrival that he had felt something so potent and it nearly knocked the breath out of him with its intensity. A need came over him to locate whoever it was that was so terrified to try and help them. The ice forgotten, he followed the feeling, using the growing intensity as an indicator he was getting close. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was so strong by the time he located it, that John had to put up a mental shield to protect himself from being overwhelmed with fear. He couldn’t see whoever it was but he knew they were in trouble. Peeking through the door to try and assess the situation and figure out how best to assist the person, John froze. On the other side of the door was a group of men, expensively dressed and armed but that wasn’t what surprised him. What surprised John was that across from them was Moriarty and Moran, the latter holding one of the recently rescued guides tight in his grip. It was from this woman that the fear and anger and distress was coming from. She was obviously terrified and John’s mind took a moment to catch up and rewrite everything he had thought to be true with this new information. From what snippets of conversation he could hear, they were discussing price, Jim reminding the men across from him that they could sell the guide to someone else who was more generous with their wallet. The woman for her part was pleading, trying to tell them that she had been bonded and that these men had killed her husband just so they could sell her, as if telling them what happened would cause them to raise some sort of alarm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her words made his blood run cold and John felt sick as he took several steps away from the door. He couldn’t handle it. His whole world had been brought down by a single exchange, merely an hour before he was expected to bond to a man who had for his part lied to John about everything. The worst part was it made so much sense. Jim wasn’t some philanthropist throwing money at guides to free them. He was a coldhearted businessman. He was calculated in everything he did and he’d purchased John from his parents knowing full well that the young man had wanted freedom and would do anything to attain it. He’d allowed John to train and make himself into some sort of weapon, planning to pair him off with his top man from the beginning. They had done everything in their power to brainwash John to their side. Lying to him and telling him that he was freeing guides in foreign countries when in fact he was ripping them away from their partners, more often than not, killing their sentinels in the process. He’d spent seven years of his life under the illusion that Jim and Sebastian were some sort of guardian angels and that they were doing good, when really, they were selling guides they had ripped from loving homes, to the highest bidders. These guides weren’t people in their eyes, they were profit. And John had helped them do it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stumbled backwards and quickly moved away from the room. He knew he couldn’t help her, John could barely help himself. So he did the only thing he could, he ran. Back to his room, stuffing everything he had brought with him into a duffel bag before fleeing. The only thing on his mind was putting enough distance between himself and Sebastian, that he would never be forced to bond with the other man. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which was why he was fighting him off now, doing anything to get away from the man and delay his fate. But John hadn’t fought for years, his skills were rusty and his energy reserves easily extinguished. Unable to hold his own for long, a punch to his solar plexus was all it took to have him collapsed on the floor.  Both men were bruised and a bit bloody but Sebastian had taken the worst of it earlier with John’s surprise attack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now he was tying John up to a chair, securing him with a nylon rope, saying he was going to let him cool his heels, that there was plenty of time for them to get reacquainted when John was more accepting of his circumstances. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he left John alone, tied to the chair without any ability to break free. Head foggy and body aching. There was no escaping this. It wasn’t like the last time, he didn’t have the benefit of the doubt, he didn’t have their trust. They knew he would bolt the moment they stepped back, so this time he was contained with no available exit strategy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All he could do to keep his hope up was focus on why he had sacrificed himself. He prayed that Sherlock would ensure Isabella, Liam and Daniel got back to their parents without any interference. He hoped they got to safety and that the Hill was none the wiser when it came to the distraction John’s reappearance had provided. If he could save those three children from a similar fate, then at least some good would come of his miserable future. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Heels</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>John opened his bleary eyes at the sound of his name. He blinked a few times, trying to locate the source. Was Sebastian already back? John thought he’d have more time to come up with a plan to escape. But now someone was saying his name and a hand was reaching out to touch his bruised face where there was a gag tied over his mouth. He jerked back from the touch, shocked at how gentle it was, his eyes turning to assess the person. What he found was a set of sea green eyes that met his own and his heart leapt in relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He struggled against the bonds that were holding him to the chair, desperate to be free of them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hold still,” Sherlock instructed as he cut through the rope with a pocket knife. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once his arms were free, John quickly yanked the gag away from his mouth and tossed it to the ground. Being able to breath through his mouth once more, John took a gulp of breath. He wiped the blood from his nose, careful as he touched the area since it was still tender. Thankfully he didn’t appear to have broken it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock was checking all around the room for anyone who might be hiding in a corner, “Where’s Moriarty?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No idea. He dropped me off and then left.” John told him as he looked around for something he might be able to wield as a weapon. There had to be something that Sebastian left behind thinking John couldn’t possibly get out of his bonds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After he beat you up?” Sherlock’s attention turned to concern once he realized they were alone in the hotel room. He came over to stand directly in front of John, eyes assessing the damage to his body. “No...Moriarty didn’t do this. He wouldn’t stoop to violence when he has men to do that for him. So must have been the guards that roughed you up.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re right about it not being Moriarty. He doesn’t like to get his hands dirty,” John agreed, “But it wasn’t one of the guards, it was Sebastian Moran.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock’s eyes narrowed as he processed what John was telling him. “Moran…” his eyes went wide when he put together what had really happened, “The sentinel Moriarty promised would bond with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John nodded, “I tried to escape by knocking him out. Didn’t work as well as I would have liked.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock nodded, “Right. Escape.” he took another scan of the room as he spoke. “We don’t have much time.” he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you here?” John asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock gave him a look that said he was being dull and that he should already know the answer to that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, really.” John reached a hand out and touched Sherlock’s arm, “Why did you come for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock huffed a breath, looking entirely uncomfortable with the topic but he didn’t shy away from it completely, “I rather think it should be obvious but if you need me to say it, I will. In the time that we’ve known each other, you’ve become something of an addiction to me. I can’t think straight when I’m away from you. I can’t focus. I find myself missing your presence greatly and while I’m entirely new to the concept of long term relationships, I find myself wishing to be with you in a permanent capacity.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John was quiet for a moment as the words caused his heart to skip a beat. Sherlock seemed rather uncomfortable with the silence, fidgeting in front of him and was about to speak again to correct the declaration he’d just made when John grabbed the collar of his suit in both hands and pulled him down into a kiss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was over before Sherlock could properly respond, John pulling back to smile lopsidedly up at the other man. “Me too.” he said, putting all the worries to rest. “But first, we need to get out of here.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That had Sherlock’s attention snapping back to the matter at hand and he moved to the door, peering through the peephole. His phone rang in that moment and he lifted it to his ear, not moving as he answered. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are they?” he asked, “Good. We’ll take the stairs then. Keep an eye open in case they leave and send me a text.” He hung up after that, then turned to face John. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John frowned, “I would be if you told me the plan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to open the door and we’re going to take the stairs down to the lobby. There we’ll take one of the emergency exits off the side of the building and get into the car that’s waiting for us.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you don’t think anyone is going to stop us?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve had your guards taken care of and eyes on Moriarty.” he lifted his phone to signify that he wasn’t alone on this rescue mission. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright.” John said, “I trust you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That had a pleased grin appearing on Sherlock’s face and he took hold of the door handle, throwing it open. “Onward.” He said before bolting from the room, John fast on his heels. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Once they reached the car, Sherlock opened the back door and both of them piled into the backseat as quick as possible. They were both panting heavily from running down ten flights of stairs but John found himself grinning just as much as the man beside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a woman in the driver's seat, wrapped up in Sherlock’s signature coat, her hair piled up on the top of her head and make-up on point. She smirked at John via the rearview mirror as she directed the car into traffic. Before John could ask who she was, Sherlock was making introductions. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“John, this is Irene Adler. Irene, John Watson.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She once more gave John a quick look via the mirror, her bright red lipstick a stark contrast to the rest of her face. “I can see why you’re so fond of him. He’s adorable.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me? Adorable?” John couldn’t believe this woman was comparing him to a child. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Irene here took care of your guards John.” Sherlock explained as if he hadn’t heard the comment. “She’s a brilliant chemist-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Professional dominatrix.” Irene corrected. “I used to dabble in chemistry but found a more...lucrative career.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sherlock, nodded as he pulled out his phone and began typing out another text. “Lucrative indeed. She used both of her talents to draw your guards away.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” John couldn’t help his curiosity. His mind pictured Irene in the hallway wearing Sherlock’s coat and holding a whip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A little bit of lipstick, no clothes and the highest heels I can walk in.” She said with a bit of a chuckle, “I lured them into another room on the same floor as you under the guise of needing help with the tub in my suite. Being men, they practically fought to get to my room to help out. From there it was just a matter of spraying them with a bit of my special perfume and they were out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John was still confused, it didn’t make sense. Sure she could have lured them into her room but she was small in comparison to the lugs that had been guarding him. How was she able to knock them out. “Perfume?” he repeated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Another lucrative business of Irene’s.” Sherlock spoke this time, his tone one of admiration. “I’m rather surprised you haven’t come across her before. Irene supplies bonded and unbonded alike with a special chemical formula disguised as perfume. When sprayed directly into the face of a sentinel, it acts like a vaporized version of a knock out drug but with the added twist of removing the memory of the event. So if a guide doesn’t want the attentions of their sentinel or needs a bit of a break, they merely spray some of the formula in their partner's face and the sentinel becomes unconscious. The time frame of how long depends on how much is applied but usually, from what I’ve experienced-” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She used it on you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-it takes anywhere from twenty minutes to a full hour for the sentinel to wake up. When they do, they have no memory of how they ended up unconscious, only that their guide is beside them. It’s assumed from their presence that the sentinel must have zoned and their guide had come to their aid. Rather an effect tool.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The car swerved into another lane as Irene sped up, “And part of the reason you haven’t turned me over to that brother of yours. You’re just lucky I had enough left over from the last batch to take out those two gorillas. For a while there, I thought they were going to fight through it and mess up the plan.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you distracted them, knocked them out and then Sherlock managed to break into the room to rescue me.” John summarized. “Is that why you’re wearing Sherlock’s coat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently the man sitting beside him hadn’t even noticed, too busy with his phone but when John asked the question, he looked up. “Really Irene? You couldn’t put back on what you were wearing earlier?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This only made her grin widen, “I didn’t know how long those brutes would be out for, so I decided to slip on your coat. Honestly, it was the quickest item to put on. If I’d stayed to put on my dress and tights I may very well still be there. You said it yourself. Knock them out and then get the car.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine.” Sherlock grumbled, “You can change at Bill’s while I’m checking the monitors. I need to know what this Moran character looks like if I’m to ensure he doesn’t get his hands on John again.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m right here you know.” John grumbled, “I can take care of myself.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you can. But it would be better if I also knew who to be on the lookout for. Dispelling any advantage they might have against us will ensure we elude capture. Besides, you can get yourself cleaned up at Bill’s as well.” Sherlock motioned to John’s jumper which was covered in blood. “I’ve stashed your go bag there, so you’ll be able to change into something that should draw less attention. He’ll also have medical supplies you can use.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John couldn’t help the small smile that turned up the side of his lip, “Thank you, Sherlock. I honestly don’t know how I would have escaped if you hadn’t shown up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t thank me just yet, we still have a ways to go before you’re safe from Moriarty and those idiots at The Hill.” </span>
</p>
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